The street light welks.
Kurt Cobain’s widow mumbles “hello, hello”
as the light swings, transitioning between colors.
The rain bristles in; you hold my hand.
I wish the rain would mumble
more than pleasantries. It’s difficult
pondering death. It’s difficult pondering life,
but death requires such stiff attention.
Swing light swing.
So numbing. Green the way
we’re all going, even if not obvious,
even if opposite what’s initially stated.
Alicia Cole is a writer and visual artist in Huntsville, AL. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Corvus Review, Eunoia Review, and TAB: The Journal of Poetry and Poetics.