gentle
gift of
goodwill I grant with
genuine
grace.
And yet:
I'm just
lying
flowers on your
grave; a
grim godless
genuflection to prop up a
greedy, prideful
guise—
Grief's
grit
engorging my
gullet,
leaving me
grasping at rotting roots,
grinding,
gnashing,
gasping,
gulping down
nitrogen and
oxygen and all the Earth's
gases as I
manage a
guttural
goodbye and
go.
Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.
