I thought it was safe to talk now
about his life and even his death.
I’ve ten years of tears to my credit
in that emotional bank account.
That’s enough to get me through
the rest of my life. I shouldn’t have
to worry any longer about when
the tears will fall, when the sob
will rack my body and leave me
like a jellyfish washed up on shore.
Crying anywhere, everywhere
should no longer be an iffy
proposition. I’ve done my time,
haven’t had a day off my sentence
for good behavior, I should be done.