JENNY

You were the tough one.

Nothing sensitive for you, ever,

just legs apart, feet grounded,

dukes up, always ready for fight.  Never

sharing even the tiniest bit

of your heart with anyone.  And still,

when I heard last winter

that your husband rode

helmetless, lost control,

and died on an Arizona highway,

I longed to say something

soothing to you, something

graceful, even though we hadn’t spoken

for years.  But the right words didn’t come,

as they never do at

such a time and so your husband

ascended

in the gray mist of our regrettable silence.

Yesterday, though, I posted a few

lines of another poet's thoughts about death,

(though more about life)

and you laid bare

your grief in the comments section

and I responded. And in that small acre

of cyberspace we made up for

that sad chasm between family.

And I hoped it made you feel better.

I realized this morning, however,

that the true success was that I’d made you

read some poetry, something you never

would have done in the old days.

Someone more gifted in words than I am

finally made you think about this humorless joke

we call life and was able, in the end,

to share some words

that if we’re lucky, made you

feel just a tiny bit better

as poetry is wont to do.