Epithalament

Epithalament Acie Clark (bio) Keywords loss, home, family, grief, water, love, connection, questions After Brenda Shaughnessy We knew what we would lose before we had it,but I know why I stayed.When I close my eyes, I can still seeour kitchen sink and half a lemon left there,turning in on itself like the fistsour mothers made in every cardinal direction,and how late it was in the afternoon.You were rinsing out the soup pot.The sun had already lost track of its daybut all of these kids were still out there,hurtling past on past years' bikes.A season simply became another season,a year another year, back then.We watched from our rented window,our bodies almost touching,but not touching. I couldn't saywhat had shifted, or what shifted then:watching those children, you handed methe child you were, and this childthrown into the water, by what?More than grief. At your father's funeral,your small feet stopped half-off the ledge of a long dock.Another July. Another coast.Two girls stood beside you, shiftingthe weight of your loss between them.It must have been love that made them do it:hand in hand and hand, pushing oneafter the other into that lake.I had never seen you cry for yourself before.This was years ago,and years since we last spoke.It's not clear what our love was, End Page 18 but that we went hand in hand into it.We had no dock then, only a tablewhere we would sit in the eveningsto discuss the day and eat our dinners.What more could I have asked for?How much less? End Page 19 Acie Clark acie clark is a trans writer from Florida, Georgia, and Alabama. They're currently teaching as a visiting assistant professor in poetry at the University of Central Arkansas. They recently received their MFA in creative writing from the University of Alabama, where they worked as the online editor for Black Warrior Review. Their work can be found or is forthcoming in Poet Lore, Nat. Brut, American Short Fiction, Foglifter, and the Opal Age Tribune. Copyright © 2024 The Massachusetts Review, Inc.