Mannerisms Smell Laugh

Like harvesting coriander,

all can be consumed and nourishing

Flourishing from the ways I access him

through my own name and my senses

Past tenses shroud all but his effect,

which is current and like vines on the walls

Calls to wake me no longer shake me

In his voicemails, he sounds to be forever breathing

Grieving sisters, here is where we find comfort

when the absence becomes the focus

Locusts, like longing, feed on what remains

Mine is a grief garden

Hardens and softens and widens and heightens,

the continuation of love gives me easement

Treatment of heartache tells of heart-felt remains,

where I live now and where the storm came

Name it my farmers market,

growing consciousness from the hurt

Dirt under my nails, because

finding him in the earth allows repair

Prayer over this warm meal, the grief

reminds me that I need to be fed

Led to rebuilding his tree fort with mom and dad,

touching the roots of their strength

The length of time in this After

holds his place as my Always, my brother

Other colors bleed into my greenery,

but I can still make out his smile