When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water, more fit for gills than lungs.
When grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief.
You think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face between your palms,
a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes.
And you say, yes, I will take you,
I will love you, again.