For When You Miss Me

Let me feel this failure
swirling,
aching,
crushing,
before the next one comes.
This end would be on your head
if you hadn’t sacrificed yours
for a misguided heart.

The team’s the thing
in ancient days
before generational losses
caught up with me
while floating between them all.

Digital fireflies
try to recreate magic
as nascent mouthbreathers
slam the collective delirium,
hoarding necessities from the vulnerable,
barricading truth
and bricking up reality.
They’re coming for us all
but we won’t even know when they’re here.

-December 3, 2021

More poetry