sometimes copters rankle the air
worry the doors, wind can rattle the windows
drown out a crow’s bitter argument
I hum my wordlessness, composed
like a rehearsal script
I’m down to a whisper
I had a sister
I’d call her and say do you remember when
I have an excellent memory, sometimes it is too good
I stood at gravesite, still as an obelisk
some weeping near me, the casket lowered
by chain and grunt down
into the ground
scrape by scrape, it splintered my skin
each creak breached the protective harbor of inertia
as dirt bludgeoned the wood, clod by clod
my heart cautioned me not to jump in
go home, it said, go home
to your quiet house
Florence Weinberger is the author of six collections of poetry, most recent These Days of Simple Mooring, winner of the 2022 Blue Light Book Award. Five times nominated for a Pushcart Prize, her poetry has appeared in literary magazines including The Comstock Review, Nimrod, Poetry East, Rattle, Baltimore Review, Calyx, Mantis, The River Styx, North American Review, and numerous anthologies.