GRIEF Poem: The Ferry, by Angelica Snyder

(angie s)

the heat sticks itself to your skin.
your body is humid
and the wind combs its way through your hair the way your mother used to.

you stand on the dock and watch.
the boats on the horizon don’t see you
and the people on them will never know you were there.

the rain has stopped.
the clouds still loom heavy on the horizon.
they are angry with you, and i think i am too.

you stand there, soaked in heat
drenched in guilt
and you hold yourself tall like the mast of a sail.

the wind sweeps your shirt against you.
it hugs you tight, the way you liked
and you don’t think of me.