Death is always near, they say,
and I believe it. I’d rather
attend a funeral than a wedding:
one I can believe in, the other:
too deceptive, too expensive,
to think about it all ending
in divorce – not at the tiered cakewalk.
Think about it: I had to stay for the kids,
my granny said so, and I believed her,
but you can’t make that choice
when death comes,
inks a permanent
period at the end of your sentence
regardless of how it’s structured,
how many guests attend
you can multiply by the number
of times you tried to leave
and come up with the years
to a son who, at thirteen, told you
to fuck all the way off.
Amanda J. Forrester received her MFA from the University of Tampa. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Indolent Books’ What Rough Beast, Collective Unrest, Trailer Park Quarterly, and Indie Blu(e) Publishing’s anthology We Will Not Be Silenced, among others. She is a founder and Production Manager of Critical Sun Press and snuggles with her fur babies when she isn’t working long hours as a data analyst at Saint Leo University. Follow her on Twitter @ajforrester75.
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