by Olivia Ragan

 

the e key on your crappy computer

doesn’t work anymore and the grapefruits

are molding. There’s yarn everywhere;

nobody should be allowed to die before

 

they finish their knitting projects. I’m

wearing the ice blue scarf, the one that

looks like winter. It’s spring now, but

just barely. I heard the wind chimes

last night. You always said that when

 

they start ringing you know it’s spring.

Maybe I should have learned all those

seasons ago that I can’t clean the microwave

alone and I don’t know how to cook for

 

fewer than two. It’s been raining for almost a

week. I know your tulips and the birds

will return, but filling the bird feeder was your

job. So was watering the irises and planting
the garden and all I know is that living things were your job

 

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