On handling death

This is for all the smiles you wish you didn’t have to make
And the phone calls you couldn’t bear to have to take
For wakes
Who’s awake?
She’s not awake..
Even the day screamed and rained down tears of anguish
I just talked to you
You were just here..
We laughed
The wretched tree branch arched over your burial site
Twisted in the agony of..
If I leave that sentence hanging..maybe you’ll answer my text.
You always did.
Fresh and young
I can see your hurt.
I know.
It used to hurt me too.
When phone calls and new sneakers didn’t mean anything
Because I didn’t have..
And your anger swole over
And death crawled under
Sliding it’s fingernails and digging in
How many shots?!
What? What?
I don’t want to go
The pain is too much
I’d have to confront the small talk and such
When all I really want to do is belch long bawls
And sit here and forget
And only remember every time grief calls
Because that’s not constant
That’s not like sleepless nights
Of wakes
And phone calls
And food
And people
And laughter
And Rum.
Pouring some..
blood on the ground..
What? Shot?
Nah you not..?!
Natural causes don’t make it easier
Because by then you’ve grown so easy
So familiar
A million card games
And soup dinners
And scolding looks
And long talks about books
Why is this normal?
What’s normal about living without you?
Small talk
Is a big job
when I don’t have you
You used to make it easy
Your laughter rolling around the minutes
Coiled in the cord..
Emotional suicide
That’s what I call it
You took your own life
.. this life is like a parasite
Because death is like..
small talk..
when I have big concerns.
Am I really just a wake?
In the passing of a life?
Like a tide..
That you just can’t get..

– janberry © 11Oct2018

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