Dressed up in grubs, yard waste days passed by in a daze of birdbath cleanups
and little lessons of seasons. I find I always want to come find you.
Orange water from Rabat days; you sprinkle across our necks and along our collarbones. You never want to stick your neck out. Hidden smoking moments;
if you hadn’t followed him, would you smoke? Would you shriek?
Is he the reason you love me so? Is he the reason you float above it all?
I have no memories of you that aren’t coloured by him, you always smiled silently in his shadow. Beautiful mother, wants space to hate men, but will he ever let her, that beguiling ghost?
He left us and we clung to each other, cursing him instead of blessing one another. He left us and we starved ourselves, now finally we’re whetted.
Trials of lawn care, strewn about chairs, make the shapes of the years we have left.
Orange water from Rabat days; you sprinkle across our necks and along our collarbones. You never want to stick your neck out. Hidden smoking moments.
If you hadn’t followed him...
Believe that your best is before you, not in the cellar with his ashes, time to sprinkle them, orange water.
all rights reserved