All We Did was Joke but It’s Real

If you won’t eat anymore

how will I show you love?

If you won’t speak

how could I fathom?

If you weren’t here anymore

how will I substantiate

loving you?

No, it’s never the same cliche

The living do not worry about going on

The left behind have no use-ful/for

thoughts of what if

The loss is simply that

you would not be loved

as you had been

if you weren’t here anymore.

This, in particular,

is what of (the) living,

which feels challenging and significant.

As A Work In Progress for Mini

Even though I did not birth you
I have held you
and, I’ll always hope,
at times carried you


Even though
some may say
Even though
it’s complicated

Even th(r)ough, so very many things,

We could not grasp

Nor understand



I first met you
Before you had a name
Before anyone could see your face

A mere prologue

of a life


I first knew you
As a heartbeat
That lived
just beneath
another one
I once knew
that was born also
of the one my own
had lived
just beneath