Sonnet-ish on Grief

I lay down beneath my grief today.

Pulled it up to my neck, pulled more.

It covered my head. You’re a disaster

since I’ve lost you. I was the glue that held

you. I was the stitches. You beg for food

and warmth, for my skin you never wanted

when it was yours. Most days, grief lies

at my feet like a dog. No. That’s not it.

Grief lives in my yard like an old cow.

Well-used. Familiar. Requiring basic care

and feeding, but not much else. Close,

but not too close. Admired, but not adored.

I see your car outside,

and close the door.