COCKTAILS

The afterlife has

left me 

stranded

in my sister's house,

at the edge 

of catastrophe

She’s 

having cocktails

amid a few ravages

of grief here and there

while

she lays out littered pieces 

of a breakable life.

No self-pity for her.

She’s too busy 

watching

the stars 

run away 

with the moon.

I didn't know enough

to be scared.

But she did.

By Barbara Shields