Everything Matters

Everything Matters


Elisabeth Horan




I told you once I loved you.
It matters somewhat now—
not because of how I feel,
but because I have to be there
when you die. I have to know
when you go. It cannot be
after the fact. The loss,
the noise, all distance
between. The memories,
which lose power, fade away:
gray scarves at cocktail
hour. You, are my keepsake.
I, a witness. A kindred
someone who knew your spirit;
Knew the words to write
of you. I will sit
beside, keep watch while
the grams drift away,
an angel arrives, the eyes
go inside, frozen fingers,
rigored cold in my
clamshell hands—warmer
than the bath I later take
alone, with your ghost,
who is funny, yet appropriate
and melancholy.
He doesn’t even care that
I’m a woman. A widow.
He holds me close
as I mourn you—dead,
yet something stirs
me, more… alive.



Bio: Elisabeth Horan is a poet and mom from Vermont. She is a messy minded feminist and ecobitch. She loves animals and nice people. @ehoranpoet

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