by Felix Stokes

pssssst. hey

i heard maybe
you wanted
to talk. no
no its okay im
not busy whats up

man im sorry to hear it.
you need space?
wanting words?
wanting poems
that know
what is up?

how about

even at night
in the garden
the birds fly.

the stars
are incapable
of grief,

and the rising sun
is proof you’ll be

you dont believe it?
too wrong, too far? no
no its cool
its only been a week
i know.

loss shivers
like your stomach
is a timer,

and your longing
is the sand,

there is an end.
one day,
it will not hurt.

closer, you reckon?
whens her funeral again
oh god dont cry just

no i know you will
feel better no i know
that this will end no-


oh i think i get it.

death crawls
like a spider
up your back,

and grief
is when you
on the cobwebs.