Mourning Window

for Angela


The morning I closed your eyes
I sat looking at your high school portrait
on the living room bureau until
pink and orange sun motes
floated above the thin gold frame,
and until I couldn’t see you anymore.

The only sound is the light clink
of my breakfast spoon
as it dips in and out
of the jade bowl.

Daily I enter, this photo:
We’re in Seal Beach.
You on a corner bench.
A black hairband holds back
your springy hair twists.
You, wearing your favorite brother’s
tan jacket.

You, smiling.

I feel loved through your dark glasses.