Sunniest day in January
And the snowdrops already blooming.
Grief comes despite the weather,
despite my daughter’s first wobbly steps,
her two teeth grin and gasp laugh.
Sadness soaks in like a grease
stain, doesn’t scrub. Despite my
perfect body and good hair,
the kind eyes of my husband.
Hurt stirs in my gut like a stomach flu,
awakens with the neighbor’s
midnight firecracker, colors the sky
orange for a moment, then black.
In the morning, here it is like a
newborn, my grief wet and curled
on my chest, despite the Towhee
calling outside my window,
fooled into thinking it is spring.
