Maria has never experienced the kind of grief
that sneaks up on you like a rebel wave,
snatches you up, slams you onto sand and shell
until you are scraped, cut, bleeding, and raw.
She didn’t know she would have no choice
but to ride the wave until it wastes itself back on
shore. That it would leave her with gaping wounds,
and gasping for air. Maria keeps busy. She knows
she doesn’t have to succumb to the fear she feels
each time her son leaves on his Harley. She reminds
herself how responsible and trustworthy he is.
The sirens sound from far away. She struggles
to breathe normally. The police car pulls into
the driveway and she knows.