Surfside

it was what rescuers called “pancake”

casually, in a crowded room middle of covid
people crying and leaning in or angry
demanding

my aunt turns towards me and laughs
at my mask, they are searching

methodically
to reassure all of us waiting

**

a stone in the sand waits just outside the door
where i live at the edge of a land mass
and my own frail edge too

having gone as far as is possible just like my mother

went to live on the other side of the continent
the 12th floor in sunny florida where waters
are warm where the ocean keeps its song where me
and her had stood together when i was very young

maybe this stone is my heart

**

i try to hold what matters which is her and not what
is left

the truth is how frightened she was all her life
things others don’t usually think of, though not
at the end when she called me on the phone
and i told her she was safe

“the entire building sounds like it might come down”

in afternoon sun maybe the bright light will blind me

**

to let this go this thing that takes my breath my heart
and not my heart only the weight trapping it

to make a person run as far as is possible
concrete twisted steel the smell of dust

force making me pay attention
longer than i think i can sustain

to hold instead all the warmth given
even of hers, how i toss the stone and
every reminder into the waves
where it tumbles

there is no world where she is alive and
i finally can be

**

i see edge of sand coupling with concrete, see

pink flowers clinging to cliffs in my mind
her pink lipstick on the ground

i fold my hair in prayer
drawing out and in
these roots.