Sisyphus and his
rock are nothing compared to
teenagers’ laundry.
Insurmountable
1
Sisyphus and his
rock are nothing compared to
teenagers’ laundry.
I’d never cheat on
my husband. But that smells so
good one sip won’t hurt.
A walk uphill at
4am to say goodbye
to the neighborhood.
California burns.
Your life separate from us?
Now just smoke and ash.
We visited once.
Soaked in your hot tub under
the lemon tree’s shade.
Spring Valley is bone
dry. Here in New York skies rain
tears of compassion.
What’s necessary?
The triage of memory.
A pyre to the past.
Photos first, then the
baby albums. Love letters.
We can buy new clothes.
Her view from the hill
– once so fine in good weather –
just blackened landscapes.
Anne emails to say
smoke plumes rise like shrouds of loss.
Below, hell ablaze.