For those who leave rooms
in storm clouds
while others sequester
when life rolls
like an avalanche
on skates towards them
and still others who
snap colors to words
like mittens on a coat,
push trees in horizon’s smile
and run into fights with
buckets of hugs
missed by soldiers’ heads
that bobbed up and down
across fields, picked off
like cans, targets on a fence
then loved ones are given
a triangle flag,
pizza pie patriotism,
to cry into, watering bones
with hopelessness
the playing of “Taps”
mimics an ode.
my throat tickles
into a sneeze
before the tears,
after looking at you
in photos. I don’t want to lose
you in bad memories, so I
smother the disappointments
in tissue paper, place in box
and post to my future self.
Now I place you gingerly
in a haiku:
You are my hero
pushing my curser forward
into poetics
