While I was at the Summer Writing Program in Boulder, Colorado they held a memorial for the amazing poet Akilah Oliver.  This summer is the 10-year anniversary of my father’s death and Akilah’s memorial coupled with this upcoming anniversary led me to write the following poem. 



All their noses are shiny and pink.

Should I be writing at all?


I miss your body

even though it was never a promise.


Here comes the thunder to put us

back small.

I don’t have to talk about it

but the birds do.


Loss isn’t.


You tell me to stop carrying stones,

drop them into garden,

stop divining the birds,

            radio stations,

                        cloud formations.


Don’t you know I Am?


To forget is to cover

and stop shaking,

that is why I dance and fuck so often

to remember, to remember.

I  close the door on my mind,

I remember, I remember.


The lightning hasn’t started yet

but there is rain.


My here-ness is difficult.

Your here-ness breathes hard,

rocking me with the collective current.


I only feels.


I did not know you.

Thank you for ((pre)ab)sence,

all floods are good.

About jake.forrest

Poet. Songwriter. Etc. View all posts by jake.forrest

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