Left hand on the wheel,
the other turned ignition,
reached for the cell phone to
share the good news.
Suddenly- hand to mouth- tears welled.
Skin flashed hot.
Heart skipped a beat, then dropped.
We buried you eight months ago.
Sometimes I think I have gone mad.
I have not moved,
still I am lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem