grief is | poetry

everything out of touch, in storage

misremembered point of views

the folded blanket on an overused mattress

waiting for the dead

when your touch stopped feeling welcome

photographs that didn’t make it into the coffin with you

the reasons why my body taught itself self-defence

your failed outline on the pillow

listening to your favourite song as if it could save your life

verbs without action

the nuances in wanting to die

waiting for me to find you

last active, last active, last active

the things you took pictures of

how you keep existing on social media


seen at 00:22

this sickness that has been your most intimate companion

nobody saw you get out of bed

your tense fingers never going back to normal

your glasses being returned to the optician

your towels with your name sewn into them

and the hospice

imagining your voice without the violence

the view from your window

seven years in preparation for death

still hit me, in full swing, like a baseball bat

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2023 | Instagram: croque_melpomene

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