Absolution

Forgive me the remaining. What is not alive
in the morning. Only impatience of the earth
to swallow the dead. Hungry and remorseless.

Forgive me the bodies that no longer touch.
The canyon that has opened in the belief of us.

You have gone too far for turning back
to the funeral from which you came.

And I atop the ridge, still watch the horizon
like an owl—wondering why I can see everything 
in the dark, but the truth is so terribly blinding.

Originally published in 2026 issue of Spirit Lake Review. Used with permission of Spirit Lake Review.