good grief, or, a performance of the pearl as it turns back into sand
i am good at grief. each eye brims to meniscus
then pours like pancake batter. i am
puffy enough to be part plastic surgery,
part newborn. i assure everyone i am
grateful for life, give a soft smile. the stone
in my throat, a rose quartz hiccup, persists.
my grief is golden. my grief is perfect. i am
a model of love’s last evolution. i contain yours
and yours and yours. water lilies cover
the surface of my grief, their roots curled
around so many bodies bodies bodies. some
-times i think that i am underwater, too.
but i have to float and buoy others. i bob
up and down, it looks like i’m nodding, yes
yes yes. see how much i can hold
without throwing up. i will swallow
it down, sympathy like syrup, it wants
to come up bioluminescent bile. i have
had so much practice, each practice
is already a perfect. a performance,
on pink satin pointe. i bow. the show
never ends. i am so so so good at grief.
we put the “good” in “goodbye.”
the inclination to turn back one more time.
the feeling right before i stop waving. your smile
before you turn around. a satisfaction. a last stitch
in repairing the seam of your navy dress pants,
or favorite green sweater. sealing a letter
once the flap is wet, and i’ve made its adhesive
sticky with my tongue. the dropping of that letter
into the rusting post-office box. the sip of wine
i’ve saved for the last pink bite of steak. the final
dark silt in the french press that becomes
the thickest coffee. starting the engine,
backing up, then moving forward, but still
checking the rearview mirror for you.
lison LubarA teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary, biracial femme whose life’s work has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices to young people. They’re the author of The Other Tree, winner of Harbor Editions’ 2023 Laureate Prize (forthcoming September 2025), and METAMOURPHOSIS (fifth wheel press, 2024), as well as four chapbooks: Philosophers Know Nothing About Love (Thirty West, 2022), queer feast (Bottlecap Press, 2022), sweet euphemism (CLASH!, 2023), and It Skips a Generation (Stanchion, 2023). Alison is also a member of the 2025 Poets & Writers Get the Word Out Poetry Cohort. Find out more at www.alisonlubar.com or on Twitter @theoriginalison