ON LOSS
Loss is a bouquet of forget-me-nots, lilacs, marigolds, and morning glorys. Loss is a chair that never got pushed in. Loss is a door left unlocked, still. Loss is writing the same five poems over and over. Loss is that song on repeat. Loss is heard over the loudspeaker. Loss is the quicksand they warned us about. Loss is saying things you don’t mean. Loss is acid in your mouth. Loss is the scent of citrus. Loss is cupid’s arrow, split in two. Loss is shattered glass. Loss is your finger over the trigger. Loss is begging the ocean to swallow their city whole. Loss is a whole month under stormy skies. Loss is a sharp toothache. Loss is sleepless nights. Loss is melted ice. Loss is room temperature water. Loss is salt thrown over your shoulder. Loss is artificial sweeteners when you asked for sugar. Loss is the dog chasing its own tail. Loss is never having the larger side of the wishbone. Loss is never the end of the story.