Spry Griever

The window held no answer
Thoughts still ate my mind like cancer
I studied the tendons in my hand
But I couldn’t understand
Their purpose
She struggled at the surface
Now a line of fixed smiles
Keep your eyes fixed on the roofing tiles
Just a vacant gaze
These are strange days to grieve
A party of dead leaves
And memories
A series of soft speeches
Homeboys gather in their breeches
How can we find words that will
Remember her without sounding trivial
I know I don’t know how
It comes as sure as the next season
But I can’t find a plausible reason
We are infinitesimal
But our grief enwraps us all
In it’s breadth
Your breath
Still hangs inside the receiver
The leave has it harder than the leaver