August Loss by Margaret Kiernan

Published by

j re crivello

on

Today I heard someone complain on the radio

About women’s issues, the lead line said

How things were not done years ago.

Unweighted. Unnamed. Unspoken. Unrooted

Unanswered grief and loss.

Now I wonder what you’d call me.

Would we be two girls against the world?

What conspired against you, the root of it all.

I only know you slipped away at past eighteen

Weeks in-vitro, obliteration of our future in

Roaming pink days, piano classes, cello dreams of mine.

You crept away, left your brothers sleeping,

Changed planets and stars,

Unarranged Christmas cards.

Today, I name you Fiona Rosalie,

You’re now pronounced.