Grief weighs itself and finds
it exceeds carry-on capacity.
It sheds baggage for now.
An obituary link
tucked into the saved tabs
of its Safari history.
 
Grief wedges itself between Google searches:
what causes a death rattle
and
how can you sleep when your heart is breaking.
A morbid curiosity
with an upturned nose.
 
Grief downsizes its collection,
folding each memory with care.
Digitizing the VHS tapes,
rewinding each clip in search
of an outstretched hand
just beyond the frame.
Mortality salience
buried at the bottom of the pile.
 
Grief asks too many questions
I don’t know how to answer.
At night it wails with whys,
arms crossed over its chest,
vowing to hold in every last drop of light.
It packs a suitcase,
a snowbird fleeing the chill.
Terror management in motion.
 
Grief wonders if pain is a mischief-maker.
At times it believes it must be,
and begs it back in its place,
sealing it shut in 3oz containers.
 
Grief completes security precheck,
identifies itself at the gate,
passes through advanced imaging technology.
At the end of the line
it still gets a pat-down
beneath a sign that reads:
regulations are subject to change.