Poems About Remembering Someone Who Died

The first month you count the days. The second month you count the weeks.

The first year after someone dies is a minefield of ordinary things. Their coffee mug. Their side of the bed.

The tree is the same tree—same ornaments, same star, same lights that blink like they don't know someone is missing.

My father's chair still faces the window where he watched the street as if expecting a delivery