I have been doing my share
Of grieving lately. I say share
As if it were an apportioned
Amount. A pinch of salt, dash
Of cardamon. Measure your
Grief in a beaker, a basket, by
The pound or a bushel. I do
Not even know what a bushel
Is. There’s the song, “I love you
A bushel and a peck,” it adds”
A hug around […]
Equivocal grief
A poem from the days Burt was still there but also slipping away reminds me of how much grieving happened in advance.
