MITIGATING GRIEF
My delusional strategies for dealing with the death of Magda: Speak only Tahitian because it has no word for grief. Smash the sun. Mandate flowers droop their heads. Ban plumage from peacocks. Pilgrimage to any wall and wail. Incant Dylan Thomas and rage. Cocoon into music. Bear into a cave. Transubstantiate mezcal into Magda and drink her until I’m drunk. Fire her guardian angel for dereliction of duty. Sue God for wrongful death. Impeach Jesus to relinquish his treatise on resurrection. Fury down to Hades and steal Magda like some metrosexual Orpheus. Reverse time until Magda lives again. Do this by spinning the planet backwards. If this proves impossible, beseech Superman. If Superman says no, beg Andre The Giant to pretzel Death in his signature half-nelson-crotch-hold until Death cries uncle and surrenders Magda.
If all this fails, paint tears on my photographs. And hope someone deep inside me comes out and consecrates this shattering.
