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© 2015 Kristin Dot Com


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More Schtuff.

For Malcolm.

April 9, 2016

Its Monday at 9.32

and my eyes are grainy

Interest waning

in all I have to do.


When I have too much weekend

I start my week in

A weakened state and

I sit in

My office and

Think of him.


When I've not had enough sleep

the bags under my eyes loosen and

My tears fall out.


It’s not an excuse

I can’t see my list of to dos

Here in this space all I see is

Your face



Curled on the couch

by where you sat

Where we met and you shared

Your hopes and your fears


In that corner where you laughed about wheelchair


And in that cabinet all your handwriting peeks out at me

Scared to look for files or I’ll see

Your name age and birthdate.  April 9 1993.

On that chair where you asked if you could speak for us, if you could speak for me. 


I see you blow out your candles at Ferry Reach

Milestone reached. 

18 years old


And now, sitting in the same chair

I can still hear

My scream when the call rang clear and changed my life.


I remember the disbelief during the long drive

To the small flourescent lit room

Hoping you were alive

And can’t escape

The look on your mama’s face

When we were told you were not.


And so now, on only a few hours of rest, I’m not at my best, and can’t stop imagining how they chased you.

How your hopes and fears seeped into the ground.

And then I watch the video play

And can’t look away even when my day begins to be lost.


I am awake, but so tired that I’m unsure if I’m dreaming

Emails unanswered

Missed meetings

Phone ringing

I can’t stop feeling.

I can’t start healing

I don’t feel healed



I remember how we circled and held hands on the tracks

where thick grass grows in the soil red with your hopes and fears

and I whispered your name.


I remember that my heart broke.  

And I wonder if vines and wildflowers and weeds grow in the crack

And if that

Keeps me from falling in a deep abyss

Keeps me from thinking about how much I miss


Perhaps on a day

Like today

When I can’t see my way and

I’m exhausted and shaken

The vines shrivel up and expose the jagged edges

Of those raw nerves


I don’t know.


But tonight I will sleep.

I need a respite

So that I might

be hopeful and bright



I need to be rested

Not so I forget him

Will never forget him

But so I am strengthened

For the other Malcolms in my life.




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