says my quarter-life-crisis cousin
that is caring for her eight-month-old—
the only right way to solemnize death is
to pray a new cherub into the world.
since the last funeral procession
I’ve pirouetted around the sun once
in all its transformative glory,
hysterically curling back into myself.
with reluctant greetings, family draping
like some kind of proscenium.
a slight feeling of ambiguousness
saying look at you, all grown up
through the meaning of any of this.
as I give them reason to celebrate
as I give them reason to grieve
that is caring for her eight-month-old—
the only right way to solemnize death is
to pray a new cherub into the world.
since the last funeral procession
I’ve pirouetted around the sun once
in all its transformative glory,
hysterically curling back into myself.
with reluctant greetings, family draping
like some kind of proscenium.
a slight feeling of ambiguousness
saying look at you, all grown up
through the meaning of any of this.
as I give them reason to celebrate
as I give them reason to grieve
through all painstaking preoccupation
currently gnarling & dribbling drool.
to kneel to the hung wooden crucifix.
I suppose it has exceeded a year
and I’ve practiced how to fall in line
like a curious bead of water
ribboning around unsound boundaries
I still hate these neo-romantic functions
arms overtop my shoulder blades
sweat slicking below my midriff,
through all semblance of jet-black wash.
curtailing my ability to reason
a tangle of elegy through scratched speech
the manifestation of beauty in breath,
the inevitable beauty in death.
currently gnarling & dribbling drool.
to kneel to the hung wooden crucifix.
I suppose it has exceeded a year
and I’ve practiced how to fall in line
like a curious bead of water
ribboning around unsound boundaries
I still hate these neo-romantic functions
arms overtop my shoulder blades
sweat slicking below my midriff,
through all semblance of jet-black wash.
curtailing my ability to reason
a tangle of elegy through scratched speech
the manifestation of beauty in breath,
the inevitable beauty in death.
Connor Donovan is a student from Southeast Pennsylvania attending Ursinus College. He is a Healthline Zine Ekphrasis Contest poetry winner and his work can be found or is forthcoming in The Blue Route, and Free the Verse, among others.