poem

The first week of grief- by the numbers

One: large box of chocolates

Two: the hour of the morning in which you will always awake, plauged by fresh sorrow

Three: large boxes of lotion Kleenex

Four: thousand dollars in funeral expenses

Five: living children keeping you alive with their aliveness, yet all the while suffocating you with their neediness

Six: children you were supposed to have; perfectly 3 girls, three boys

Seven: days, months, years; it never changes and you are always gone.

home birth and experience

Your brother came so softly
born in the water
no crying
quiet contemplation
pink and rosy

how different your coming was
born in blood
no crying (no breathing)
sudden expulsion
limp and pale

everything got so dark

can't tell up from down anymore
all the sweet reminiscing of your brother's coming
marred by your passing

what power gained from birth
can not be stripped away
by death?