The Funeral Was Friday

Two red
hurricane flags
one above the other

bend the pole
snap the wind

mark the surge

landfall is
already made

when I slide
legs up and
body down

into a hot bath soak
of fragrant Japanese flowers
at two in the afternoon

I rinse my hair underwater
I have not done that since I was a child

love is enough to choose
we love enough
we love
not enough
to be a choice

white is my color of
mourning

again we snap the car doors shut
plane doors shut
everything, shut
everything, boarded up
then rushing,
then gone

again I cross
I make the arc of
a red lacquered bridge

I make an arc
I cross the red bridge

I come back to you.