
Mournings After
Wasn’t it just night outside?
I can feel the sun.
Somehow I find myself again
splayed on the couch
SVU still muted on the screen.
Every morning starts like this,
in blurred disarray
poached eggs, emails, and memories
of a time when
I could call you on the phone to yell.
So I failed at motherhood.
Tell me something new.
I knew you were an addict but
what could I do
more than berate the grown man I raised?
I’ll never forget that church.
You were in a box,
while a thousand people gathered in
to shed their tears
and hug me, like hugging a cactus.
After the fun’ral I thought
only sleep was safe.
If I stayed on the couch each morning
I wouldn’t feel
that I was no longer a mother.
But long after the Last Day
your Last Day, I mean,
I decided to sit up straight and
meet the new day,
with one foot in front of the other.
I have to keep working now
and doing my hair.
I have to take care of my husband
and to survive,
I have to take care of me, okay?
I am not just living my life for you, Zach.
I am also living it for me.
I’m sorry.
I wake up to survive.