Grief Came in Torn Jeans
By Liz Grisaru
Grief came in torn jeans
and a white tee shirt
she wore seven-league boots, which
she dropped inside my door, as if
she planned to stay put.
Tell me, Grief, how long
do you intend to stop
will you wash your hair
in my sink and shake out
salt crystals on the counter top
will you sleep in my bed
rise to pee in the dark
how much of my stores
will you consume
will you leave behind
only picked-over bones
tell me, Grief, how long
I must answer to you.
Liz Grisaru practiced law for many years and currently works for the state of New York on renewable energy and electric transmission issues. She has a BA in history and literature from Harvard College and a couple of law degrees. She is most proud of her two adult children, who every day make the world a better place, but she is also very pleased to have returned to writing poetry recently, after a long hiatus.