(an excerpt, originally for Susan)
The heart of friendship is a sturdy daisy and nub of grape
still clinging to fence. Driving coast to coast without
ever leaving our chairs. A collage of significant photos.
You first cut my daughter’s hair.
Our families are each tattooed with grief. A bouquet
Our families are each tattooed with grief. A bouquet
of friends on the ever cluttered table. Passive aggressive.
Taken over. A visit when least expected. My nickname
spoken with your voice.
We move into new homes, counters stacked with mail.
Trees in need of water. Winter and spring. Our friendship,
a rolling cart on wheels. Recall of playing piano two by two
on a bench as a girl.
As if you were always there. Looking for knives and spoons
in my mother's drawers. Vinyl on the turn table. Sitting down to sigh.
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