the weight of certain news
on the phone
that makes the receiver heavier
makes it fall from my hands
the pointless weight of certain things:
metal pieces in abandoned lots
the curved posture of my father
who after years,
has yet to take my brother’s corpse
off his shoulders
and place him on the ground
we need to acknowledge
to bear right
after all, how many more minutes
can we continue walking
the middle of this highway?
the blaring horns make me lonelier
and lonelier
and lonelier
why do you bury the one who is left alone?
no death is natural
this poem won’t make it to the hospital