the red thread the damaged heart
no suffering no cause no cessation no path

this morning I must love
the uncontrollable 10,000 things

red tea in a glass
adamant ravens their cries outside
the stain of blue fruit from a half-eaten pie
piles of unread books
the couch where you sat

when I took the blurred photo Thanksgivings ago
used this year for your funeral

no smell no sound no taste no touch
no old age and death and also no extinction of them
no suffering no cause of suffering

“I’m always angry,” you said
no cessation no path

you died alone “of natural causes” at 51 were
found on your littered floor the body livid

“a proud Black man” your friends said
but did we somehow fail you, Makani asked me

can anything now be saved
from the fire the sea levels rising

—mushim

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