She clears away crumbs,
brings in the mail,
moves the hose around the yard.
These are not things that fold
under the insistence of grief.
They merely proceed
to punctuate time and matter.
I imagine wrinkles of angst
seeping from her fingertips
as I watch her feed the dog.
Then her hand quickly smooths
the top of his head.
Married forty-one years,
his unexpected end so sudden.
It may be that lifting large boxes
while packing up the house
pushes back against
tangles of her loss.
I must remember not to open with,
How are you?
each time I see her.
(First published in Mosaic Art & Literature Journal, June 2022)
Marianne Brems is the author of three poetry chapbooks, the most recent, In Its Own Time (2023). Her full length collection Stepping Stones is forthcoming in 2024. Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including The Bluebird Word, Front Porch Review, Remington Review, and Green Ink Poetry. She lives, cycles, and swims in Northern California. Website: www.mariannebrems.com