The Death of Ms. Hagley

I thought I'd feel reprieve; some kind of soul relief to find out she died.

Wicked Jinn

My lids are heavy. My brain churns thoughts. I run for home, spooning with dog. Exhaustion. I am aggressive and stalwart.

Closing the spaces I once shared. Closing the trust I once spared.

Wind comes, leaving half torn remnants of color, a pinwheel once moved by breath.

Fear is an illusion. I invite these intrusions to include truth, even if it hurts you.

What does my face look like when I cry? Un-pretty, swollen blood red eyes.

I wonder who you are anymore as your voice echoes dismissive screams disguised as suggestions.

They said they found her drowned below the galley. She had tried to scratch her way back to sea.

There are blue aching planets waiting in line behind this one, and if I blink, I might miss you, gazing at me.

Empath; this solitary epitaph, words come lucid, swept on tides, murky.

and that was the day she stopped speaking, abruptly, out of the blue; without warning.