Our minds have us believe terrible things
calmly convincing us we are not enough
like there is a shortage of oxygen
and not all are worthy of air.
You think I don’t see
how your eyes drain of light
how you speak in riddles
and commit to me keepsakes
in case one of these days
you do it like you say you will
with a telephone goodbye
and shared tears
repeating ‘I love you’ in fierce faith
of its ability to resuscitate.
I will never forget,
up to my ankles in perfect white snow
the bloodcurdling mist of that graveyard
embracing your life
as I waited for those flashing blue lights
watching one lone magpie
fly above the graves
and say more than my words ever will.