Emily Brochin

Grieve

Nothing bad can happen in Alaska–

It’s a known fact.

The cold burns it all out,

Whatever’s left, the dogs take to their little corners.

If there are people in Alaska,

I don’t know about them.

If there were,

I’d make no guarantees.

I am told I will remember nothing;

All I see inside the vision is a sunless bright.

It will take awhile to float to shore.

And between mooring and unmooring,

Every eye that has ever laid upon me,

Will be shut.

One-at        a-time,

By a blessed hand.