Anywhere but there

Originally posted February 5, 2024. Based on a writing exercise that asks one to deal with a hypothetical death of a loved one. Revisions made were to the title, enjambments, and word choice.

Photo by Robin Schreiner on Unsplash

An abandoned rusted car in the summer heat
with no boyfriends—who I met with 
after classes let out to make out with 
just to stop ourselves from going home 
because their parents never quite accepted 
them like mines—to keep me company 
even under the moon's peerless 
machinations on July nights 
bedazzled with sparklers.
A boisterous sky littered 
with chattering firecrackers.

A cemetery on any frigid winter night
without a coat, in front of her grave 
next to my grandmother crying for her last 
daughter as she’s lowered into the ground. 

A casket with vanilla milk chocolate lacquer
that shimmers and shines brilliantly 
as stainless steel pans, burning ruby red 
atop her stove with blueberry 
pancakes easing into a cocoa 
brown at their edges
that finally sizzles and cackles 
with melted dewy butter 
on those May Saturday mornings. 

Next to her, wherever, with her 
as she says it’s not my time. 
I won’t get another chance next time 
and that I should move on with my life.
So I’ll begin to ask her
how will I do that 
when she was it?

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