If you want to know why I can't seem to find words these days is because
you can't hear my words
after I've fallen in the sinkhole of grief,
and can't seem to find my way out.
I am still threading water, coming up for air.
I can smile when
this little clip of him= Gobble-Gobbling
in my cache
of photos I seem to use as my raft.
At other times, I sink deeper and deeper, worrying about what I should have done,
like calling him the evening of his death
teaching him the very skill
that he needed to survive that night.
I search for his voice, his face. in every one I meet.
A short loop plays in my head over and over again
where I can see what I think happened that early Sunday
when he was hit, ended up on the pavement, passed out, died.
A sinkhole has no exit paths.