The tears and the mucous
can soak the jackets of the living
for only so long
before the weight is too much to bear.

At some point, we, the living,
must come in from the rain
because no one likes the smell
of a dog, wet, and alone.

The salty echoes stain clothes
until time and closure wash them.

It has all of eternity to be sorry
but it will not, incapable by design.

I'll take off this jacket, mom,
never to wear it again.

I'm more of a sweatshirt guy, anyway.

01/27/2011

Posted on 01/27/2011
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