STILL GONE

It’s only been forever, never. And a day.

Since twenty-five years grated by

But do you know what?

You haven’t aged a day, in death

Not a shadow more.

You have, however,

Grown wiser

So please, Mom

I want to tell you

About the secret

I’ve kept to myself:

I didn’t entirely believe

That after all these nows,

Elegant sorrows

And thirsty memories

That you’d still be gone

I had decided

Time should stretch

So far, as far

To come back to itself

Fuller and swifter

Stunning and strong

I believed this waiting

Would bring something

Grander than hurt

And rupture

Your silence

Back into song

But seems life

Is a flatline

Yearning toward shape

Until death arrives

With an urgent flourish

To circle the end

Twenty-five years

Urgently tells me

That secret of mine

Is a winter’s hope,

A hungry egg

A cruel lullaby

Such simple truth

Assails my younger self

Slips down my throat

And rips up my tidy grief

Dropping pink petal

Confetti onto your grave

I hear the dream of you

Just in time

For my age to touch yours

And I recognise my face

Upon your forever

Now, I finally see myself

We almost stand together

Only I am arriving

You are still gone.