I imagined you were dead
(My mind wanders to places)
And I, of course, would not be welcome
At your funeral.
Your son would refuse to attend at all should I come.
Your long-absent husband would try to punch me,
Making a big show of being held back
By men half-hearted at best.
Your sister would curse my name
And spit on the ground, shielding the eyes
Of her children lest my gaze steal their innocent souls
And your brother would sneer.
Your lovely little daughter,
Not knowing who I am,
Would try to give me a hug
And be pulled away by the feverishly concerned. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe you could die
Many years from now instead
And I could sit
Among the mourners
Unnoticed,
Forgotten by the others who mourn you,
Holding in my tears
For the drive home
Should they betray who I am
And who you were, who you are
And always will be
To me: <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I will pull over to the side of the road
Alone
And let it all out,
Car door open,
Into the unconcerned wind. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"