an atheist's guide to grievingi. let your soliloquies be private,a prayer to trees and trees alone--cargo shorts,baby hairs,everywhere soft.tuck it away:that song by the kills,muffled sex under blankets,apologies through gritted teethii. when the news arrives,remember this was not special.a hundred other girls spokesottovoceinto his mouth,felt the blue valleyof his collarboneiii. watchbut say nothingas they stumble over his pronoun& still pinch tiny rainbow pins at his funeral.iv. flinch every time you see an ongoing truckv. remember him at all the wrong times:drunk with friends,making breakfast,masturbatingvii. put that record on& praytooloud
find someone else to serenade you naked at 2 AMthe night isn't quite blackbut it isn't blue either.in some purgatory between the twowe settleinto our newselves.it's light enough that we can see starsand trembling deer and our handsin front of our faces,but dark enough that i can'tsee the tremble in your lipswhen you tell me you're leaving/ / /you drive me homeone last time,sighing through the long stretch,the drive so brand-newin the wake of 2 years pulled apartat the seams.it is as if youhave never driven me home before,every streetlight and traffic signa fresh stroke of thick painton the canvas of our last day in love.cupid's chokehold is on the radioand i'm back on the swingset2 hours agowhere i told you storiesabout my old homei'll never tell you again./ / /i slink down the slide,stumbling onto new ground.i come down.