The Jar

River Snowdrop

  sorrow

is an open-mouthed sigh

and the bile in the back

of your throat

  it is spit

on the pavement. the

veiled estrangement

between before the thing

and after; now

grief is a growl

  sharp and biting. it is the

threat of tears, it is the tears

themselves, it is a ripping

  loss

is a chipped tooth in a jar,

and the space in the gum,

a tongue eternally checking

to see if it’s still

  gone