i.

september

hot rails beneath converse-clad feet

speakers encircled by the outer ear canal

and they said the music was

too loud for him to hear the forewarning whistle

but i call bull s***

ii.

october

the discordant split made their trinity ache and crumble.

it led up to our show, changes of heart (holy spirit didn’t have one),

and the son didn’t show up for opening night.

he found the father gassed in his car because

the holy spirit decided to pack her bags.

iii.

november

it was imprinted in my mind that morning,

every time i closed my eyes i saw the gleaming white,

the upward curve of your lips and like your lips

i rose to meet the day, i was ready, i was strong, i was wrong,

unaware and oblivious, and so god damn ignorant

until i read those words.

my world shattered

and the darkness began to seep through the cracks

the image imprinted in my brain was no longer clear-- it never will be--

his lips now wrapped around the barrel, waiting for sweet “relief” to come

waiting for happiness to hit him like a bullet in the brain.  

iv. & v.

december

what’s two more?

cold wintry day, old memories start to fade

as that cold and old piece of metal came

came fast and hard like i’m sure she did when they made love

one of his socks and one of his shoes was

found a few feet from his body--

covered in a white sheet, just like hers--

i guess the impact of metal on flesh rattled his bones

enough to rattle the crowd.

vi.

july

it was the beginning of those drunken nights,

running through those suburb streets at midnight,

stripping ourselves of societal rags on the cold metal structure

where children played during the day, pissing behind trees,

that first puff of acrid smoke, “don’t inhale,” and in my drunken stupor i did,

the kitchen floor was cool on our bodies, flushed with alcohol,

the bright computer screen made our eyes ache and the sentence,

“he’s in a coma,” made our hearts ache,

so she and i held hands and prayed our aching hearts out that he would wake.

we woke midday and hungover.

he never did.

vii.

august

glioblastoma brain cancer--

rising from those star-shaped cells, the very glue of his brain,

the large network of blood vessels that support it’s reproduction,

betrayed by his own body.

not to mention the chemo.

it was the size of a tennis ball, but he came back to school with a shaved head and a scar.

but he came back.

we finished the year,

thinking everything was fine.

we started high school,

thinking everything was fine.

we relished in the summer air,

thinking everything was fine.

the symptoms caused by increased pressure in the brain (it grows rapidly):

headache, nausea, vomiting, drowsiness, weakness in one side of the body,

memory and/or speech difficulties, visual changes,

death.

viii.

may

how is it

that more than a

year later

i still find you?

on walls-- grey cement,

made beautiful by your name.

in people-- selfish and greedy,

made beautiful by your

soul, even if barely touched.

i like to think that you left

happily, doing what you

loved, looking up at the

green trees and blue sky.

and i like to think that the ground was

made beautiful by your

skull.

ix.

june

it took two weeks

for the next calamity,

he must have been hurting…

so much, and i guess that his

end was the end of that pain and

on the bright side:

they’re together now.

x.

september

Her arms were holy and

Every day she made more,

Reopening all of those old wounds.

Of course, she felt it and the

Imminence of demise was

Near.

xi.

june

our formative years were filled with

freedom and knowledge but mostly

merriment. those playground days

seem long ago,

and they are,

ten years or so.

our teenage years were filled with

drugs and booze but they were mostly

unpleasant.

he never made it past those years,

never made it past 17,

he only made it past

life.

xii.

now

i try to remember lessons from sunday school,

like that “the righteous are taken away

to be spared from evil..

they find rest as they lie in death,”

isaiah 57 verses 1 & 2.