I haven’t been to the city
since she died
it acts the same
in its smug anonymity
changing storefronts
new detours
the chatter of a million
different languages
out of unfamiliar mouths
I could see how grief
would be comfortable here,
unseen and unheard
you could probably fall
into one of those steaming hot vents
and no one would even notice –
the world would just keep going on
above you
it’d be a more honest experience
it’s what the world keeps doing regardless
whether you’re above the ground or below it
Less Than 1%: Surviving My Stillborn 