grief

“hey, asshole —
don’t your feet hurt
from standing on that edge
for so long?”

although she thinks
she could have stopped him,
she lets him fall.

some people think it’s romantic
to love a suicide.
she knows better:
it’s hard work to watch one die,
and harder work
to watch one live.

at the funeral,
she plays harmonica
by the graveside
and horrifies the mourners.

she is no messiah.
she cannot raise anyone.

later,
when the crowd has gone,
she becomes so starved
that she eats dirt from the grave
and wipes her mouth
with flowers.