The Sun Got All Over Everything

Over the boys and girls by the pool,
over the bougainvillea, which got so hot
my palms stayed warm for minutes after.
It made a mess of a day
that was supposed to be the worst
and lured me outside so I forgot her death entirely.
And also the polar bears scrambling
on the ice chips. And also that there was no water
in the Golden State. The pool was full
and the sun poured across the women’s bodies
so you had to shade your eyes. Or I did. I had to
put my hand up to see what they were saying.
I know it’s no excuse. And I had made a plan
to cry all day

and into the evening. I marked in my book,
which seems like something I’d make up in a poem
except this time I actually did it.
I wrote: Grieve. Because we’re all so busy
aren’t we? And so broke. I needed to make
an appointment with my anguish, so I could
take my mind off buying groceries
that I really couldn’t afford. Anyway.
I didn’t mean to go outside except there
the sky was, just ridiculously blue,
taunting me with pigment that I felt
the need to name. And from somewhere
close by a voice I couldn’t see because the sun
was like a yolk cracked over it said,

What are you drinking? And I said,
I’m grieving. I’m very busy remembering.
I made an appointment because last year
I forgot and then felt awful. The sun opened
its mouth and made a gong of the canyons.

It poured across the girls and slicked across
their Dior lenses. I put my tongue on it
exactly when I should have been tearing
at my clothes and lighting candles.
I got on top and let it find the tightness
in my back and open where my wings would
be. Somewhere my mother was dying
and someone was skinning a giraffe.
And I let it go. I just let it go.