the first year









the first year  orange stories
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A poem about loss and the recovery after that. Thank you for reading <3

the first year

the first year after the world ended

in this story,

in this story, the child has no eyes to call

a mother,

a mother, no hands to patch up grassy wounds.

he loses his memory of her,

he loses his memory of her, he loses the world she held up in her eyes,

the kind of story where the ending devours

the middle,

the middle, the beginning gnaws at the wrists,

how easy it is for him

how easy it is for him to cinch her memory in place

when her name weighs too heavy on his shoulders.

in this story,

in this story, he pays homage to the ghosts,

the floating womb,

the floating womb, the crushed dragonfly wings

that scatter like orange ashes

long after the bodies are hauled away.

long after the bodies are hauled away. (i.n)

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