Is Yellow Round or Square?

it’s such a sharp, piercing robbery
a blind kind of memory

a collision of anger and confusion
erupts periodically in my heart
from day to day.

the explosions are as sudden
as her death
but my bursts of grief make sense —
they are a reaction to an immeasurable loss

her death will never make sense
no matter what the old testament
or you
might try to tell me (to comfort me, to comfort yourself)

her death makes as much sense
as the nonsensical questions an alien
would ask us
or that perhaps that God

thinks that we ask him.

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