dear gd

gd of my ancestors

of the people and places

i come from and love

there is a line of grief that runs from my tongue

down to my stomach

it presses close to my flesh

it is grief that keeps gagging out of me

grief that twists my stomach

wet yarn

soggy and heavy

dear gd i know how we got here

dear gd i hurt in all my joints

i have felt it i think and i havent

if it is silent for a moment

i weep

the night after the election

i made mashed potatoes

what else is there to do sometimes?

dear gd,

i find it hard to talk

i find i don't have the time it takes

to wait out the ball in my throat

i want to talk,

i really do it's just -

i've been practicing dentistry this week

staring into the mouth of hungry ghosts, and

i have a headache that does not let go, then releases, then clenches, then --

ebbing and receding

a tide of pain creeping behind my eyes and my head, so

i go to school

and we're all complaining of headaches, gd

none of us are well

dear gd,

i have nothing smart to say

no ending in sight - just these hands,

this ball, this ache -

practicing