Your soul is in clothes
Fine Lenin to cover your ligaments
It was your God on Sunday
Prayed to it on Monday
Emotions could be felt in your denim
In the stitches of the fabric pumped life like they were your veins  
Heartbrokenness comforted in your tight boyfriend jeans
In your back pocket sat your heart
Where it couldn't be seen
The expensive products you powered yourself in made you feel like a queen
Inside these clothes you were royalty
It gave you power
Smirked at those who looked in awe
A sin if you didn't look good
You were strong in your religion
Curses those who didn't dress like you
This was your life
An you would sacrifice it all to look this nice

Pain in my heart
Been hit with a dart
I could have been smart
Kept us apart
So when you want to restart
My still lungs and heart,
Notice, sweetheart
You had a part
Don’t even start
Doctors look at my chart
“Flatlined”, “Dead heart”
The scene was “graphic art”
My body, motionless
All because
You couldn’t tell heartbrokenness
From suicidal hopelessness

Mandy Mercer-Neder, friend, daughter of composer Johnny Mercer for whom he wrote the hit “ "Mandy Is Two”  in 1941, died Sunday August 30, 2020, age 81.      
    
      Honoring Mandy

Deep inside
I sighed, I cried;
Internal sighing, crying
So, so hidden and unbidden,
Bringing life's death to the forefront.
With an unexpressed
Heartbrokenness.

Mandy dear, unwell for years,
Brave and perky,
Generous to kin and peers,
Using what low strength she had
To cheer on others.

A state from fate we all shall share.
We were not there.
We will be there one dated day,
One way or t'other.

In the foremost corner of my mind
I honor Mandy.
Innermost, I find regard
I saw no hint of,
But by dint of her departing
With intention, mind and heart,
An unexpected urge,
A surge of empathy stirs, spurs me on
To honor Mandy.

Honoring Mandy 9.1.2020 Birth, Death & In Between II; Arlene Nover Corwin

a man is making music; playing a wooden piano and writing a song from the stories in his head. a woman has left away the dust on her black shoes, in a previous rain's puddle on the street. you're alone in your apartment. you have made another coffee, read a poem and sang to yourself in the evening. somewhere there has been an argument between lovers. two lovely people trying to untangle themselves out of a word-chaos, and just be held a little longer. loved a little more. the blue in the skies have gone and come again. and as we sit here in our joy and pain and relief and melancholy and warmth and heartbrokenness — a wet plate in the kitchen has slowly dried. a dog has found a warm sun spot; circled around it and settled for an afternoon nap. a ripple in a pond has dissolved into stillness, after the children ran out of pebbles and left the park. as we grieve and celebrate — the world has gone on breathing. moving and changing and creating life. no matter how we see it in the moment, the world is still gorgeously magical. it has always been. it will always be.