Friday, November 22, 2019
SO MANY I LOVE
So many I love
have died. That's what
we do, isn't it?
We die. My father
struggled with night
terrors at the end.
I had already
put my hand in his
and he said, "You
smelled him, didn't you,"
speaking of the demon-
tiger. The darkness
overwhelmed us.
It was a week later,
after we buried him,
I saw another
sadness, another
star winking out.
