Death of a Friend (For Jeff; three years on)

A cold night,
an email,
a phone call,
a speeding car.

Finds a home,
sees a policeman,
speaks to a chaplain.

Her grief
spills out my hands,
down my arms,
across the floor.

A chunk of cheddar,
aside a knife;
a few crumbs,
on a cutting board,
on a counter,
in a kitchen.

A lion and a man,
once a lover,
once a son,
once a friend.

Alone in a chair,
by a desk,
by a cup,
cold and still.

By a window,
by a river.

Flowing into a bay;
flowing into an ocean;
flowing into
a white moon.

Copyright 2019 by C. Max Schenk - all rights reserved - like warm memories for cold nights