if you don’t inspect grief
grief will inspect you
*
and you can close door after door
but grief will always hold the keys
*
grief has always known you
*
I lost you as a child
I lost the child on those photographs
I lost the only thing that I considered intact
amongst the bluish dust of my childhood
I lost this boy to his own fireworks
and he whispers to me in my sleep
don’t look down at what lies on the ground
look at the crowded sky bursting colours of mine
Croque-Melpomene 