For a friend mending grief 2,700 miles away

gretchen filart  


When you beckoned me
through the looking glass, I saw your tornadoed world.
Debris orbiting you. I have since been nursing dreams
as a kangaroo, feet springing a thousand miles
in a hop. Sometimes, a tern – wide wings
spanning this flyway, birdsong
medicine to your wound. But
my favorite is where I am a bookmark
between the pages you inhabit. I watch you
relish the words; hide them
in your belly. Their light flickering
in your basset hound eyes,
scraping away your grief.

Author Bio

 Gretchen Filart is a writer from the Philippines, where she weaves poems and essays about motherhood, love, healing, nature, and intersectionalities. A finalist in phoebe’s 2023 Spring Poetry Contest, her work shares space in Rappler, Defunkt, Door Is A Jar, and elsewhere. Connect with her on Twitter and Instagram @gretchenfilart, or her website She’s usually friendly.

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