Walking through the grounds of the demolished building 
I wonder how to describe grief. 
There’s the sudden voice wobbles, of course,
and the repeated resentments of accusations 
that I’m doing so well. 
as though sleeping, eating, and keeping the house going deserves some special commendation. Sometimes 
I wonder 
if maybe it shows me being unfeeling, not caring. 

I wonder how grief behaves:
the irrational refusals and 
avoidances;
not wanting company, 
or to be alone;
resenting the new tasks.

So download another distraction, 
wonder again 
who I am now, 
and what I 
might want not to do
or, maybe, choose to do.