Grief Assembly

By McLeod Logue

We are sharing the big bathtub
of life, tan toes and blonde hair
snaking down the drain, pulling
at the pipework. We make ourselves
known. It is hard to be awake,
harder still to drown in the midst
of one hundred naked eyes.
We want to be part of the process,
picking at skin and flesh.
We’re operating in three fourths
time, meaning we need to be stripped
down to the minute. In the room full
of empty chairs, someone’s dragging
their heels across the floor.
We are all waiting for forgiveness, a sign
from God, a father’s hand on our
shoulders. Someone must know
why His chosen soldiers are
teenage girls. When the school bell rings,
the doors lock behind us.

—

About Author

McLeod Logue is a poet from Birmingham, Alabama. She received her MFA from the University of North Carolina Wilmington, where she taught creative writing. Her work has appeared in The Nashville Review, Gulf Stream Magazine, and The Shore Poetry. You can find McLeod at her website and on Instagram.