And still, we are confused

when a loved one dies — 

as though we didn’t ask, first,

to know.

My sincerest apologies,

I forgot how much

it hurts when the air you breathe,

it burns, and the way you see

it’s worse.

My most earnest regrets,

I didn’t know you’re

hiding, I didn’t see you

crying, I didn’t believe you could be

lying.

Rather, those silver-bar

sand dunes gleam white,

under those stars that

never set over black

¹⁵They are the living dead, they swim in the Styx under a silver moon,¹⁶they ceased crying long ago, they are the Gray.

Our reflections in

mirrors, the taste

of water,

our breath, our

fingers counted

in fives.

Right now, and

forever, for

the first time.

On deaf tempest

and wild fire

my muted plea

fell, merely more

for the pyre.

I watched a boy chase a butterfly.

It was getting dark and hard to see — 

He was far from home and lost his way

when the butterfly landed in my tea.