Past tense

An anniversary poem

Grief leeches out of my bones
into the muscles, the tissues, the fibers

My limbs agitated and discontent –
forced into purposeless movement

My brain a fruitless bumblebee
flitting from thought to thought
to thought without resting long enough
to gather any sustenance

Because my mind forgot,
but the body knows

My heart the relentless metronome
propelling my parts into
fractious remembering

The day is coming
is coming
is coming
is coming

And she will not
She is naught
Not is anymore only was

Context note

My mom died Thursday, August 9, 2018, suddenly and unexpectedly. This poem is the product of my feelings and experience as that anniversary draws near in 2026.