Like footprints paved in
the snow in the driveway coat-
ed by fresh blankets
of white descending snow flakes
in the morning, I know they

are still there. Like the
trees bright with vibrant leaves fall-
en by winter and
flowers kissed by butterflies
replaced with dull grass, I know

they still bloomed there. Like
unexpected, unprotect-
ed surprises grow;
I will never forget the
sensation of cold gel on

my still flat tummy
or the clasp around my pan-
creas, six more weeks
of winter, it rains ******
red. Saturday. Life. Gone but
                                              
                                             I know. I remember.
                                             This was supposed to be a
                                             tanka but I have
                                             never been good at obey-
                                             ing the rules. I have not been
                                             good with losing you.
                                             Intentional, counting syll-
                                             ables, words stuck in
                                             Saturday, I touch my bel-
                                             ly, remembering you exist-
                                                                                         ed here.