for greatness that was his last mistake
we massed his grave the family in a slab

without belief of afterlife in this life
I despised his guardian angels his

stunt crash resurrections his hearing
was blurry one sentence led into another

bled into my mother’s ears one time she
threw a hot rag at him during recovery at

home his ribs broken she was at her breaking
point before his death & unrelated I claim

the universe massed petunias in grass by
his name so bruised so blue & purple

(originally published in Midway Journal, Fall 2020 – nominated for Best of the Net)