Last winter I grew 12 cabbages
what else was there to do?
when their heads were lopped
I embalmed them,
controlled decay.
And when in summer you died
grief clutched my insides
rejecting any sweetness
appalled by sustenance
they were all I could eat
macerated in tears.
@bill_fe a friend whose daughter was murdered 15 years ago told me it never goes away... I guess your mother would concur. I am not sure I am a good poet, but that is what the theme inspired
