Poem for M.
And it’s not like we ever met, even in passing,
maybe you’d have annoyed the shit out of me
maybe you were rude to servers,
maybe you only saw the world revolving only around you,
didn’t even view yourself as Asian, really,
you were my sister,
with stories intertwined that spoke to one another,
begun with goodbyes, ended alone
(at least for you), alone and searching.
Laying there, bleeding, I hope you felt no regret,
felt any peace in passing;
that we were all sent here for something better and got it--
not bleeding out, alone, in a car.
No, we were sent here to--
it’s not like we ever met but
just in passing, I’d have stopped to listen to your last words,
made up a prayer or a song
kept tempo by your heartbeat but this one wouldn’t end.