Kathy,
I’m pretending you moved to Canada where it’s beautiful and the orcas are swimming and they have good healthcare. One day I’ll drive to Vancouver and knock on your door and say hi neighbor to the north I’m baking cookies can I have some sugar?
Hi smart woman who makes me laugh and talks about her father the Lutheran pastor.
Hi dear friend of my sister-in-law who I liked for years
in life and online.
Liked, but didn’t know.
I didn’t pick up on your pain,
didn’t know you had a gun,
wonder why you left such a mess,
wonder if you realized how cruel that ending would be.
Kathy, your photos are still on Facebook and your comments float through space.
Are you up there in Canada holding my cup of sugar?
I see you riding your bike to the sea, and the orcas are jumping.
Farley Egan Green lives and writes in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. She graduated from Scripps College and is retired from a writing/communications career. She writes for the pleasure of working with words and sounds, to tell stories and, in some cases, to make sense of difficult experiences. Her poems have appeared in the Trestle Creek Review, Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine, and elsewhere.
Emerge Literary Journal 