For Brandon

who has been gone 11 years and yet is with me every day

I carry grief in back of my throat

center of my chest

corners of my eyes.

How long before

I’m no longer surprised

by its burning?

I carry you in back of my head

center of my gut

corners of mouth.

No one has more opinions,

cares as much,

or laughs as loud as us.

I carry my grief in your words,

“you know I think you’re beautiful,

but you look like hell”

they’re especially true today.