Tuesday comes every seven days, I thought
Like a therapist in training—but I wasn’t waiting
She died in my sleep
Like the first frost or
All the matriarchs in our family
Like a child, afraid of my own fingernails
I laid in the field overgrown with goldenrod
Someone could use this, I thought
Although I didn’t know
If it would help

*originally published by The Garlic Press (2025)