You Can't Outrun Sorrow





Four deaths, four years

Mother 
Friend
Brother
Other Mother

Each anniversary
a punctuation mark
like a shovel
re-digging the hole
of grief 

Then,
365 rungs
to climb out

                                                     You can't outrun sorrow
                                                             so go limp
                                                       when it catches you

  And hope
for a taller ladder
- or smaller shovel 
next year