the last time you touched them gets no closer

i remember the way the sun hit the halls as i lay there listening
to my dad cry when his first sister died
two brothers later and still nine to go–
we’re Catholics i guess i’m tired of explaing how god love contraception no more
than he loves a life  bereft of bereaving

the grieving they say is a measure of your love
how rare is a word that lets you believe that makes it worth it