Briefly
I hope he’s painting
There are tree branches he’s never seen
The front door has new snow
And the dog had a fresh bath
I’m lipping this cigarette
Wine stains on the stalk
And all I know is
We will never have another talk
Another plate of potato salad warmed by sun
Living leans closely to mother death
In these silent rules
And you’ll never drive your car again or
Sit in your favorite chair
Your absence- so unearthly…
I’m taking time to digest the fact that
I’ll never have another lecture about the Constitution
(Still we ache, the easel remains undone, the plane grounded for the final time)
Copyright @ Kimberly Virga 2026
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Briefly
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