Our grief has made us clumsy.
Already Niki has injured both feet.
She broke her right great toe on a chair in the kitchen,
then abraded her left foot on the litter box,
moved to the hallway by the 24-hour nurses.
Julia used the wrong words.
When they heard the news, men embraced,
surprised by the bulk of a person their own size.
I feel on the brink of an accident when I drive.
Backing out onto the street,
I think something is coming that I can’t see.
I brace for the truth of metal on metal --
that first rude lurch into a future in pieces,
the silence that comes after.