Remembering You
All these dogs still alive in the world,
still the runnings and jumpings and snarfing downs of dinners
and you’re not one of them.
Joy is unbeautiful beauty,
joy is a paradox.
The sorrow of what has happened,
and the sorrow of my sight of it,
so the delight of my memory of it,
so the being of it.
You were really on my chest
We really grew up beside each other
And Damn. Im alive.
things are serious
and possible
and with consequence
and poetry
and fur
and skin
Copyright © Lily Green | Year Posted 2023
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