Not Least of All, you.

There is so much to grieve

Not least of all- you.

I found you

Slumped, alone and purple

Your hands reeking of garlic and pitted Greek olives

The malnourished cat at your elbow

like a matted gargoyle, awaiting some savior of death.

I thought- how long.

The cleaner was gone for a week

Another world tragedy

Some illness of fatal wind took her daughter

She’ll say

Maybe a week later when the body’s been processed but our minds are still numb with excuse

 

We’ll say- we should have seen.

Reached out and wrote

Maybe a surprise on the doorstep

Thinking a surprise presence is desired of a woman

Who’s smoking breath died with the first utter of-

You’re crazy.

You told pillow stories in a closet

I wondered if that wardrobe

Or some other white witch snatched your mind

Or if our minds

have multiple sides

And you were just brave enough to see

 

I think of you 

And your judgment 

Your eyes glaring from the third story

A look of fiction maybe for pictures

We'll never witness

Where is the lining those days your brow won’t unknit

When the sorrow won't  leak 

But glazes like rotted turkey salad left out on the blue marbled title

Before it was dressed

Because your house keeper

Didn’t show up as scheduled.

 

What happens to a woman

Un immortalized by the internet.

Was she alive, we'll ask?