The grief is sticky
Clinging to my bones and blood
There is no simile left
It is nothing
That has ever existed
Inside of me
What’s wrong?
She asks
Nothing
My mother is dead
The words are stuck
In the tendrils
Beneath my voice
I am alone
As never before
Barren of that nebulous thing
She can no longer give
No words are worthy
Of this
I am missing.