my friend Eric's sister died,
leaving behind three kids,
and a mountain of memories.
I pickle onions
with jalapeños from the garden,
while eating a palisade peach,
trying to pray inside,
as the Rabbi speaks from my phone.
I try to wrap my head around
the fact that one day I won't
be able to taste; one day
I will be nothing but once was;
it's impossible to fathom.
there are 199 people
in this Zoom Shiva,
and i selfishly wonder
if I'd even come close
to that number, let alone
during a pandemic.
Eric's sister had crazy cancer,
but it's wild to be alive one day,
and just not the next;
how do you explain that to a child
when adults don't even get it?
I wish aloud for peace for her and her family,
and I wish for a hundred more years with my
daughter, and I really try to taste the peach,
while the Rabbi speaks from my phone
about grief and memory.
