a new kind of grief

there is much to be said in kitchens
standing in doorways, arms crossed.

i could say everything i can think of
to make you know my heart, everything

conceivable to help you understand
what it is i've been trying to say for months.

and here it is, i guess, pared away to its core:
i miss you.

and the part that hurts the most is the grief
over a loss i'm not sure you realize.

the loss:
you might not miss me back.

for tanya, it's the fall of 2010 and you are gone

i've been thinking about you a lot
i'm not sure why -- it's not the season
not the usual time of year my grief bubbles up
and refuses to recede

maybe it was going by your old house
that was something i shouldn't have done, i know
or maybe it's noticing again how we aren't the same
how i'm not the same since you left

you make me cry in front of other people
just remembering you; remembering us
makes me cry in front of strangers sometimes
and no one knows quite how to react (not even me)

your heavy presence has been weighing on my heart
more than usual, this one's more stingingly painful
than most alberta autumns since you died
and i don't have much to say that i haven't said already

except that i miss you, which i could never say enough

seagull

like a slow inhale you rise
from a rocky shore into open sky
white wings reflecting sun

you circle there on currents of air
a keen eye turned earthward
to tidepools gathering treasures

and like a sharp exhale you descend
noisy calls caught in your throat
nothing now but the prize below