Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.
Do not hand me a reason. Do not polish the silence. Do not tell me heaven needed
My father's chair still faces the window where he watched the street as if expecting a delivery
The strangest part is the ordinary: how the fridge still hums its one note, how the bills arrive
Bring nothing. Bring your body and your coat and a tissue you will find
Spring doesn't arrive. It trespasses— one crocus first,
The first month you count the days. The second month you count the weeks.
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