For Brian Wid­dows, Jaime’s daughter Kaya and Ceredwyn and Keith’s cousin

There is an infinite sad­ness
in cer­tain acts that cannot be escaped
and tonight I grapple with the tri­fecta:
A murder, a sui­cide, the death of a baby
moments before it entered the world

Around me, friends reel, grieve, fume,
plant trees, hug, weep, scream, rock
— I pre­sume. They are far away
and I am alone with infinite aches,
a deep spiraling starscape of unending.

There is no com­fort in this cold place.
Only wine, and silence and little waves
of mel­an­choly, that there is such hate
in the world, that there is such des­pair
in the world, that life can be so random
and steal breath from del­icate souls.

Lay roses, lay lilies, lay lav­ender
at their gravesides. Plant seeds.