grief is a sloppy drunk
slurred stumble leaning
into unresolved dark corners
of our lives

the moment you think
you’ve placed him down for the night
into a reasonable bed

here he comes again
breathing his sickly sweet
bourbon breath

how will i ever forget
where our statues stood
before the corrosive
passage of time

water and salt

form glacial streams
down weary faces

marking the ones who love us

this is what we began with

this is what we leave behind