Grief Starts Small

She is a tiny thing at first, 

a mouse that crawls 

through holes in walls, 

eluding baits of midnight 

phone calls that 

I know will vanish

as the distance 

grows between us. 

I know she’s there, 

that little mouse. 

She leaves footprints 

through distraction,

drops shoes in rooms

I’ve long abandoned

because they once

contained your shadow.

Sleep eludes me

as that mouse

starts munching

crackers in my ear.

I awake, no breath,  

to find her sitting, 

snorting on my chest

and she’s an elephant.

published in Medusa's Kitchen:

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/09/latches-at-work.html