for Alex — a golden shovel, after Andrea Gibson

The sky is still keening and so am I. What is too many tears? I let
myself flounder in the grief like a fish out of water, drown in your

ashes. Yearn to reach through the veil to hold your seedling heart
in my hand, to love the life back into you. The empty chair at break-

fast is shaped like shame. The lightning of loss sears through me so
this jagged scar is the first thing anyone notices. Your

absence is a shiver of sharks closing in. I summon your spirit
to haunt me, so neither one of us will be lonely – but it doesn’t.

~
Bio: Sara Beth Brooks (she/they) is a white, queer, and disabled self-taught poet. Their poetry has appeared in Rogue Agent, Tiny Spoon Literary Magazine, Squawk Back, and elsewhere. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net.