Grief Written

My grief coexists in the twilight zone  Somewhere where contradictions meld together  I live in the twilight zone  Where I both miss you extraordinarily  And crave the moment the you in my poetry becomes something else  Where you are no longer you, but the him in all my metaphors. Somehow I straddle the past, what I wish was  Along with the future, what I hope may be And in between the two is the multiverse where those two moments meet.

 My best friend sat in the corner of my bed watching me whisk furiously as I laughed to keep myself from crying, She’d been there all morning into the afternoon and the cup of coffee I had made her had been replaced with a glass of wine. “Why are you still doing that?” I carefully poured the filling over the toasted pecans, watching the crust disappear. “I promised him I would.” She took a sip from her glass and I could see her mulling over her next comment. “You should spit in it.” “He probably would like that,” I told her. “Maybe I’ll just etch the word humble into a slice.” She laughed, and for a moment I thought her careful examination was over. When I removed the pie from the oven I sighed in defeat at some of the burnt edges, shrugging while I said “it’s probably just a breakup pie anyway.” I remember when you had asked me if I could bake a pecan pie which I replied surely that I could. Within minutes I had saved a recipe, within days I had bought the ingredients. When you notice