On Grieving

by Brendan Strong

Outside of

This family

No one really stops.

 

The commuters will slow

To see the show

Of mangled steel and maybe

 

A Body.

 

Away from the road

It is ourselves, alone

In a room with his body in a box.

 

We look at our shoes

But we choose

To see an abyss in all of this.

Advertisements