I was at the Costco when they called me and told me. While I was standing there in the book section at Costco smelling the pages of books. In the aisle made of just books they called me and told me- He told me. My husband was the one who told me. He whispered it through the tiny speaker in my phone and he didn’t want to tell me through a small speaker. He wanted to come find me and say it- face of my face, hand of my hand, flesh of my flesh- He wished he was there to say it say it just say it say that my brother, big brother who grilled us all salmon, and for his wife, his four kids, just the night before, was dead. And I was standing by the books and the cart was full and my baby faced me faced my impotent eyes and where— where did he where do I where was I supposed to The man at the checkout counter told me he liked my pretty pink lipgloss.

〰️

I was at the Costco when they called me and told me. While I was standing there in the book section at Costco smelling the pages of books. In the aisle made of just books they called me and told me- He told me. My husband was the one who told me. He whispered it through the tiny speaker in my phone and he didn’t want to tell me through a small speaker. He wanted to come find me and say it- face of my face, hand of my hand, flesh of my flesh- He wished he was there to say it say it just say it say that my brother, big brother who grilled us all salmon, and for his wife, his four kids, just the night before, was dead. And I was standing by the books and the cart was full and my baby faced me faced my impotent eyes and where— where did he where do I where was I supposed to The man at the checkout counter told me he liked my pretty pink lipgloss. 〰️

I was at the Costco when they
called me and told me. While
I was standing there in the book
section at Costco smelling the
pages of books. In the aisle made
of just books they
called me and told me-
He told me. My husband was
the one
who told me. He whispered it
through the tiny speaker in my phone
and he didn’t want to
tell me through a small speaker. He wanted
to come find me
and say it-
face of my face,
hand of my hand,
flesh of my flesh- He wished
he was there to say it
say it
just say it
say that my brother,
big brother who grilled
us all salmon, and for
his wife, his four
kids, just the night before,
was dead.
And I was standing by the books
and the cart was full
and my baby faced me
faced my impotent eyes and where—
where did he
where do I
where was I supposed to
The man at the checkout counter
told me he liked my pretty pink lipgloss.
A single bulb on the strand is dead
where the father is gone the sons and brothers
travel to the place where an inimitable
light is not just dim but dire
disparate the fates of babies cold
steel bats and expired weed killer lie
discouraged here in the garage
where the sons and brothers
and urgent sisters
search for a spare light
new sparks to mend the broken strand
there are some who say if one beam
goes out the others will die with it but
I have not found this to be
true the remaining can
still burn
a flame alive in affliction a
second awareness of a
brilliance breath more
awake to what remains all the bright
because an absence of
one beloved light
the standard tome is told to men in
one sure line but I can see
lives and lights strands
and strings they find themselves
entangled and entwined in
cycling gleams of bulbs and
beams their flicker warm the worn
a collective reflective of flecks
lost — we all still blaze
And out of nowhere
somewhere in the bow
the bending of your
knees and the letting your
too heavy of a fist
fall
fall down open
into the hole hollow
in your lap. More than
holding a flicker or even a
flash or a flame of it—
more than a brilliant
new something smashing
through an abundance
bidden for so long unanswered
cold—
it finally arrived.
Inside our most terrible ache inside
of it, a lost smile came back
home inside the— this literally is
my worst nightmare come
true— the answer to
my plea was unconcealed
was revealed and there
it was inside of me birthed into me
gifted through a cervix
of horror.
A breaking heart and
the chest pain that you hold
with your right hand
and your left hand
too. The crack wrought
from your lonely heart breaking.
It quivers violent,
alone
while the tough shield is
rent from the lonely heart breaking.
Heart cracks hurt bad and are loud.
Pound. Fire.
Pound. Hammer.
Arriving at our nightmare made
true. Split open. Open maybe
torn a slit and there is a dark
red blood letting. Open the clearer sounds of—
Wait.
Wait.
What is that?
hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmm
What is that?
hmmmmm hmmmm
A hum.
A glowing hum—
a hymn
of hearts cracking.
Everywhere. Everyone.
Pulses ripping
arteries tearing. There are so many.
Pound. Fire.
Pound. Hammer.
Pound. Fire. Pound.
Hammer.
hmmmmm hmmmm hmmmmm
How?
How could I not hear
before— the broken beats
inside so vast the
alley of languid beautiful hearts.
And this, the radiant
new something that came
and made whole my
empty fist and open lap
and saved me:
Broken hearts are never lonely.
Oh Father—160 just
one hundred and sixty and ours
the double bond appears
reproachably rended more again than
perhaps the one hundred and
sixty years then and tired
time is a shallow voyage below
all hunger is gone for
the dry land there is no
soil in the heart of
those who now survive on top.
A pirouetting people they remember
to forget but without the forgive oh
forgive the people who
forget the bones beneath all
their fractured feet while
they imagine better their swollen
unction vaults - - -
across mercurial air
I hear diligent mouths demarc-
ated arms asleep their
inert legs.
With utmost reverence for
those mansions Thou hast
prepared—
I’d rather inherit this dirt
the sacred mud fed with a tutored
pain-gained blood it nurses the land
they all carry on
while the compost plays the
groaning score of this
the last best hope our
earth our
ground our
ransomed dust—
Oh keep and let
them bend
shush— listen

〰️

BOOK AISLE AT COSTCO

DECEMBER ROOF

THE DEVIL IS THE UNWILLING INSTRUMENT OF GRACE

SAINT ABE STILL PRAYS FOR THE USA