You were in the shower when the phone call came.
Your breakfast was in the toilet by the time it rang again.
You don’t answer. For days, weeks, and then it is
The three month mark, and she isn’t back, and you aren’t awake.

When you leave the house, and pick up the phone,
Someone says “I’m sorry for your loss.”
You say, “I’m sorry it wasn’t me.”
The words don’t come out right. The words don’t come out at all.

Every time you see a hummingbird,
You wonder if reincarnation is real,
And if she’d feel better as a bird, or a bug,
Rather than a bedridden set of destroyed lungs.