Tara Labovich

Grief II

i broke up with grief when i found us
sitting in the dark
living room every night,
same buttindented spots on the couch,
stinkmiserable and stale. i swam in grief.
i struck myself with grief. i grieved so
hard & shallow
i was never myself.

we’re back together now, me
& grief. i swim beside her now
in the summerwarm quarry
before dawn, in that purplemourning.
horsechestnuts mutter at the harbor,
drop leaves for us to gather in our hair.
the water parts around us.
it is slow & quiet.
when we are out of breath, we swim
to shallower land. toes indent sand. i wrap her legs
around my waist, my arms around her shoulders,
kiss her forehead, her edges
round & pressing into the solid
shape of my herebody.