Hiccup when someone
Really close misses
And remembers us.
The spasms of
Diaphragm or uneven
Flow of air to lungs
Doesn't matter to her.
Likewise, to hell with
Nebula, supernova or
Any of those
Star-forming events.
She says, whenever
A loved one dies,
They appear in the
Sky as stars.
Now that she's dead
And I sulk on this
Terrace alone with
A beer in hand..
Looking up at the
Night sky at the
Stroke of midnight.
I wish, my fucked up
Life could cascade
Down a little to that
Level of simplicity.
So that I could believe,
In the possibility that
The twinkling of the
Star in west-horizon,
Is because of
My dead grandma's
Hiccups.