father’s day

Today was the first time
in a long time
I had to find a way
to explain your​ loss,
this sadness,
without-
by trying-

today was the first time
in a long time
I had to find a way
to explain your​ loss,
this sadness,
while attempting
to not
be either.

Six years of practice
and there’s still no nonchalance in death.

How do you answer
so that nobody
regrets the question?

draw blood

I wish I could recreate you with pen strokes,
turn paper and ink
into blood and bone,
punctuation and diction
to muscle and nerve.
Death never seems fair
but this,
this sticks —
If I could write you to life,
spine become spine,
binding to skin,
margin and gutter
to sense and sinew,
cover to cover
your book would already be filled.

I would hold you in my hands,
feel your weight, your smell,
and then maybe
I could feel
that there is hope–
we are not all
lost

-dm

kiss hard

I’ve tried to trap you in words,
tried to describe what it meant,
who you were
to someone
that never even knew you.
Regret that never
moves far from the surface.
If I could do it again
I’d probably be just the same,
or, maybe, sadder,
more distant,
because I’d already know
the ending.

-dm