Every Year This Day
every year
this day
gets further
i cant see him
anymore
just a photo memory
golf club
wings
plastic
never semblance
enough of him
or of me
in him.
every year
this day creeps
further
just
out of grasp
so that i
outstretch
and fail.
he slips right through me
a ghost
a whisper
a lie.
every year
this day
i await dread
and then calm
quantifying fear
counting
recounting
little trinket tattoos
of memory added
to a jar
of years missed
days missed
like these,
where he cannot see me
or show me
what forever means.
i wonder today
what he'd say
if he knew i knew
such sorrow.
every year
this day
i feel more
often less
and that,
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poem by Danielle Le Chat
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