November 21, 2019
Dearest one, you were
I asked you where the love goes when it is over
I am saddened, my love
The day I knew my dad would die
I called
in the cab to Brooklyn, sunny headache
afternoon
you were on the other side
November 20, 2019
A cigar— cherry-tipped at the creek,
iced fog creeping around an abdomen of bark,
echoing acoustic vibrations under autumnal skyline,
post-shift luxuries pacifying being amorphous to society.
November 18, 2019
The year we had our first Thanksgiving
The one where you’d sit beside my sister’s black boyfriend
our turkey was purple.
A mishap of marinating it in apple cider in a
purple pillow case.
I called you that morning in a frenzy
asking if you thought the dye would bake out.