Tag Archives: loss


When I was just

a little girl

My mother showed me how to

sew seeds


I could live like Alice does

in a wonderland.

At the time we drew them blooming from the earth

Knees dusted in dirt

All I could hear were their howls and screams.

As a woman

thinking on how I am plucked and tugged and wrenched and dislocated

I pat the soil around my babies and promise they will

come to full term



and, when the wind threatens to carry them away,


and knit themselves into crusts and crevices

for you to wonder at

when you are screaming.


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Today she thought 

I miss being a girl. 
How many times these months

chants & championing 

The words 

woman & strong 

impregnated so as she might erupt

An Orphic egg

Spit out a new cosmos amongst the darkness


Create from the wound. 
She was sorry to let the universe down. 
But when she buckled up her own helmet before riding 

when she took her own hand to cross the road against the lights   

She shuffled her feet at the curb & breathed

‘All the women in me are tired. 

I miss being someone’s girl’. 

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Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.



…with your armor up

…and your iron eyes

…and your stiffened lips

Unfurl your hair

let it avalanche down your steel shoulders

and flush cheek bone

and breast.


Come in.

Lay your body down.

This place

it is

a refuge.

Tell me your stories

Let your tongue tease out the learning

Your muscles ease out the burning

and your heart

so swollen

…let it leech out for awhile.


Give. me. your. lungs. warrior.

A baby would know what to do under such circumstances.

I am giving you permission to do the same.

Make your mournful sounds.

You have not forgotten how

only pretended.


Give. me. your. salt. warrior.

Your lacrimation will be a final desalination

Through pores

excrete what your body can no longer contain.

I will gather the delicate crystalline in my palms

and with index finger and thumb

we will use it to season

what. comes. next.


Come in.

Lay your body down.

Dear warrior

This place

it is

your refuge.


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We are told to replace love.

That is the way to do it the world says.

‘The best way to get over someone is to get under them’.

Whoever dictated such ludicrousy has surely felt the weighted ache

For love is a tangling far greater than under and over.

It is through-

Becomes the strengthening of cartilage in your bones

the oxytocin & the forging of neural pathways

(strong enough that you can no longer remember a time when you didn’t hang the washing out THIS way).

It is beside-

Even in absence (tell me – how long have you left their side of the bed void?)

It is behind-

in memory, now distorted, heightened and illuminating all choices

you. are. making. from. now.

Over and under is but one way to tangle.

When one is knotted intestinally

the gut knows it will take a greater unravelling.

Certainly my body cannot betray my love to something you can achieve 90percent of the time.

For it is through, beside, behind and now



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There there 

When the alarm went off at 5.30

I’m sure you were there.

That early a.m.

Pre travel excitement 

made me tickle you awake and say

‘It’s time’. 

On the train on the way to the airport

I watched as you pulled out a book. 

I got silly wanting you to talk to me about our impending trip. 

You sighed with a smile and closed the book on your lap.

I’m sure you were there.

At the airport 

Me wanting my first coffee

You frustrated.

You just want to get to the gate.

We struggled a little against our wants.

I know you were there.

As I reached for my seat belt on the plane I heard you unclasp your belt buckle in our bathroom

In our bedroom after a long day

At our bed

By the couch

By the table

And that one time in a hotel room by the television. 

I’m sure you were there. 

As the plane lifts off the tarmac 

I turn to take your hand…

‘There there’ I say to myself

Here. Here.



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This is how it is now.

I wake up
and I get up.
There is no snuggle time.
Showers are long where they used to be short
I let the hot water cuddle every part of my body.

I’m early to pick up a friend

She’s the first person I will get to speak to in the morning.
I will snap at her unintentionally in a working day
for the same reason.

I am there and not there.

Students make me laugh and I marvel at their invincibility and
simultaneous vulnerability.
I do not wish for these times again
just the conviction that
When you are in love with someone
It is the only thing
The forever thing.

At night

I find myself at dance class
Or dinner with a friend
Or walking with a friend
Or anything with an anybody
To avoid the fact
my somebody is not coming home to me.
Not walking through the door, leaving the happenings of the
day behind the minute they see me.
And smile.

I get into bed with a heat pack and will myself to stretch out into
the empty space beside me
as if this is something to delight in mischievously
As if it’s not my side to take.

I stay up later now

In the hope exhaustion will mean fewer dreams and less hours awake and turning.

This is how it is now.
I hang my head and think
You fool.

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