You surrendered to this surge of the so-called absurdity.
Some
You almost
forget how she
died and how she is
dead.
From alive to vanished,
all to none.
You leaned tight
to the shaky plastic chair and
a slender smile happened
out of
a joke.
The starting line of the book
you once read
started to preach.
You surrendered
to this surge of
the so-called absurdity.
Just an event in your life.
Not a ripple on your river.
Not a trace of sorrow.
Not a tear.
You numbed your own tentacles,
you were the lowest liar.
People don’t just
disappear,
not even in magic, they are just
hidden
deeply.
So if you dare,
go into that shower where
in a split second you disclosed
the huge lie and
your tears outnumbered the
bathwater but your cries were
silent.
If you dare,
enter that vintage store
one Sunday, July,
and swim deep in the
long skirts she used to
stuff her closet with,
they even
had the beige linen dresses that you
used to wear as sis outfits to
show off how pretty
your mom was and how gorgeously
her girl had grown and
I swear
you will see her
in your eyes.
If you dare,
step in that cafe by Union Square where
you will
hear a song, a
heavy metal qualified
to be on her playlist,
like the ones she used to play
all day long in her room
and permeated yours too;
the ones you
failed to understand.
And I swear
you will hear her
in your ears.
If you dare,
let her in your dreams.
She met Sam yesterday,
in this moderate apartment where we used to live—
pulled down in recollections
but was crowded now.
She gave me some money
told us to have fun
maybe more fun
than we could.
If you dare,
every day see and hear her more—
it will not even be in your
gleaming dreams—
so you will know even though she is not
all but at least
some.