You said you’d never
been to Chicago,
if there were a place you’d care
to go, that was it.
When you left, i was sure
this monochromatic
this transient
this threadbare
like the carpet
town
would suffocate me,
i couldn’t breathe
as i thought of when
you said
where you were
didn’t matter,
so long as i was there
too.
they cremated you.
i almost laughed.
i couldn’t help but think
even in death you were
smoking,
white tendrils
floating up
fading out,
like your words
when you said i was
all you needed,
like the smoke rings
you blew for me.
i threw your ashes
into a Great Lake
fistful after fistful
the way i would grab
your hair
in the fists
that were no
longer closed
opening not hair
but dust
to the silent sky
I was screaming
and crying
and fighting
to be heard
in
all
this
noise.
it got easier as i went
fistful after fistful
after fistful
after
fistful
af
ter
fist
ful
by the end, i turned
the jar upside down,
patted
the bottom like a
ketchup bottle.
then i lay in bed
and cried,
thinking of how
i wiped
the last
i had of you
on my jeans.