WEBVTT

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I'll read one more poem
about that time in my life,

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and it will explain how
this book got built.

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"After You Toss
Around the Ashes."

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When she was dying, it was
impossible to see forward

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to the next minute.

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What was happening--
for whole weeks--

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was all that was happening
and happening and happening.

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Months before that, I
got the dumb soup wrong.

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How awful.

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It was all she wanted,
and I had gotten it wrong.

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Then, in the airless days
when it was really happening,

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we started to power panic
that we didn't know enough.

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What should we do
with her ashes?

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Water or dirt.

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Water or dirt.

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Once, she just
asked to be thrown

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into the river where we
used to go, still alive

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but not living anymore.

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After it was done, I
couldn't go back to my life.

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You understand, right?

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It wasn't the same.

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I couldn't tell if I
loved myself more or less.

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It wasn't until later,
when I moved in with him

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and stood outside on our
patchy imperfect lawn, that I

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remembered what had
been circling inside me.

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I am beautiful.

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I am full of love.

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I am dying.

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That poem is particularly
about the paradigm shift

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that happens in your life
when you lose someone close

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and how it makes you
rethink everything.

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And for me, it just
made me commit more

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to love and life and
living and poetry.

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