This
world span
rain. I mean
how the breath
can quit. It comes
and goes you don’t
believe it
stops. That mark
stays on
your face.
That face
that died
in your chest.
The limb—did
she think
of how
it looked? The toes
she once
could always
stare at. Pick.
She felt
its ghost
foot walking
Earth—which is
a missing
thought. The single
cell consuming
light becomes from
want—that force—
a Prince. His
mouth and eyes
his chest, the sound
he tears up
from in
side him—shriek
that tugs
my guts
from the soil
of fuck
and fight. Dance
that filled
my hips—the bone
bowl brimming
up. I felt
I—no. I never
felt your
wordless
mouth. I did.
It lit
me to
my core. I burned—
a wick
of want. I snuffed
it out
myself. That dark.
That’s loss.
~ Alison Cobb
To read more fabulous poetry dedicated to Prince, go to www.depoetry.com.