No sense of TASTE, so
EVERY FLECK and bite
requires that I CHECK, for
otherwise, it’s a mystery
meal every time!

Georg’ann

GRIEF cloak worn everyday,
hanging on broad shoulders.
Days when the weight pulls
her over, inward. Movements
slow. At times wrapping around,
a comforter infused with his scent
while she watches tv and eats
STALE cookies. Or looks out
at the WEEDY garden, tea in hand.

We often CHECK in with one another.
As time passes I’ve noticed her
fingering the clasp, not quite
ready to fully release.
Though she is pushing back
layers of fabric. Shoulders visible.
Transforming cloak to cape.
It’s subtle this shifting
from protected to protector.

Heather