national poetry month day 19

[extemporally]

1999

We were driving to your funeral
& our father was not crying
because he has a way
of tying ribbons around grief.
It was the year we learned
the piercing that prefaces the blood
holds the most delicate of darknesses.
Then it was the year we opened
all our faucets & waited for the sea
to bleed to death. Then it was the year
we set fire to your mitt. Then, suddenly
the year we started to believe
every thorn was just a bridge.
Then the year all we talked about
was boxing. Then the year
my stomach hurt all year, & then
the year no one spoke of you.

If there were an antonym for suicide
we could all choose when to be born.
I would have been born after that day
so I could not remember you.
So my fingers would stop pointing
at all the things that aren't there.

- Kevin A. Gonzalez

Comments

[forochel.livejournal.com]

; ;

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

♥

[violett-crumble.livejournal.com]

This is just piercing... and most of us know that feeling so well.

Thank you for these, by the way. I've loved all of them.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad you like them! Thank you for reading :)