nicks on our hands from cutting wild roses
placing orange flags
eternal reposes
a version of me never got off the floor
whimpers of "daddy" curled by the front door
familiar clothes hang from the hospital bed
tomorrow i'll tattoo the verse that he read
"stop the car" and "just say it"
the words - they were stuck
threw the phone like i threw myself down by the truck
shaking and swearing and guttural sounds
one chapter ended as knees hit the ground
we came, your three children
to the old family place
new life, little footsteps
shared biscuits and grace
juniper, pine, a blue casket closes
ironing black clothes while wiping our noses
five clips on repeat of your contagious laughter
since last thursday night there's you and there's after
sunbeams and black clouds
raindrops on the creek
it mimicked our hearts
dark joke of a week
that corner booth leather is seared in my mind
waves of laughter and grief
neon lights
closing time
white knuckles on memories
white knuckles on things
on knick-knacks and jingles
you touched or you'd sing
an 8 minute facetime five hours before
your hand on your heart, you leaned on the door
i won't see you drift to a grumpy old man
i won't get a text
i won't touch your hand
i know there's a future, new heaven, a home
but right now im angry; my prayers are moans
we cannot go under; i can't go around
we have to go through
this chapter
this town
all that you taught me
all charley becomes
a black hole in my chest rips and claws at my lungs
dappled and red stained-glass window light
again i will watch you
first row, piano side
last day that my dad is on top of the dirt
so i'll write this poem and sleep in your shirt
a white hearse is carrying what's left of the man
who taught me to walk
who taught me to stand
i picked you wildflowers and tied them with twine
i'm clutching your clothes
blinking lights in a line
as days and weeks pass and summer takes spring
the rain will still fall but the birds will still sing