I never asked for grief to decide that

it lives here now. It lingers in doorways,

haunting rooms and the in-between spaces.

Grief is like a cat that followed me home

without warning, and it gets into everything

–the closets and shelves; the empty seat

at the dinner table when we all sit

down for meals.

At night, it settles over my chest

and I can't decide whether the weight of it

keeps me up or lulls me to sleep.

—N.

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