The Ferocity of Grief

A keening cry—

incomprehensible truth—

a father’s fading voice—

regrets felt in the fog

of dreams where,

over and over,

you make mistakes

and  someone is watching.

In one dream, it is your job to prepare

a room for your father’s body.

Somehow, you’ve scratched the floor

into an unholy mess—

hardwood marked by deep gauges.

In another, a woman stands before you,

scissors slowly snipping the threads of your clothing.