THE QUESTION OF SURVIVING THIS

for Kelly Caldwell (1988–2020) In my next life[since thisone burnedto ashthat nightwhen you shookyourselfout ofthe worldyour touchnow memoryan eyelashon the sinkyour foundationand blushstill behindthe mirror] I live in a trance, in a transformed valley,where the last flowers bloom and the last dogs eat them.I lower my mask to eat the last salmon,suck the last peach, scrape artichoke with my teeth. The wind licks my faceand licks my plate cleanon days I have no appetite, every day. Let me paint thisentire countrythe colors of your facethe last time Isaw you alive *In my next life[since thisone turnedto stasisthe horrorglazedwith springwithout herknees beneaththe sheets] I live with the beetles,invisiblein the dark.My grief has no witness,a quartz in a quarantine,hard and commonas enforced social distance.The rain is fearful,expressionless.And I’m looking into herlike a mirror. I, too,am a firefly:that sparkon the…