i take my frown,
and the grief that hides beneath it,
and i drag it onto a wooden block,
and i teach it how to breathe.
is it then my child?

if i leave it here on this block,
will his wheezes turn to calm exhales?
if i leave it longer, will he learn to talk?
do i dare hear what he has to say?
to you? to me?

if i leave this grief on a slab
in a house in the forest,
will i feel guilt?
will i mourn?

is it my responsibility to grieve... him?

will i have anything left inside me
to do so?