A Special Bulletin from Another News Department
Dedicated to Greta

I don’t wake when I see your soul departing
Because I knew it would be out the door
Long before we stumbled away from each other
And the red and the blue never mix
They’re on different wavelengths
As surely you must realize
Twelve feet from your own shadow
And birds are unseen
But songs ring out in ghastly clarity
Out of shades of the gray
That acts as the go between
For the blue and the red
Conduction chamber
Pressure cooker
Injection instrument
Some days are better than others
And some days don’t have enough words
To replicate the experience
And if words could kill
She gave me a picture
Worth a thousand
And what you call an ending I call a tumor
But it could be a thumbprint
It could be a smudge from an unclean lens
But I guess you run that risk
Anytime you hold it up to the light
As you surely do
Even three years later