through dreamless skies.
Night surrenders easily.
Summer rises once again
in folds of zinnia, daisy, marigold.
All of that
Inside, funeral roses still bloom.
They infest the air
my daughter no longer breathes.
is no longer everywhere.
Not in her t-shirts which I wear.
Not in her make-up, clothes,
and shoes her mother keeps.
It is another
she has not seen, a day
without our smells and shouts,
another day without her warmth, her smile.
by his father's hospital bed.
The man feels death coming fast
and orders his son to buy a funeral suit.
sits among good-byes,
his mother and sisters, and his father
whom the priest has already blessed,
while my sister cries in my wife's arms.