Philadelphia begins: Fall just wasn’t like this last year.

Seattle replies: I was thinking of you as I opened the door, kissing on the dock,

Here at home, trees explode with color.

The black endless nature of the water. I opened the door

Infinite yellows and deafening reds, one last joyous roar.

Expecting him to be sleeping, maybe playing video games.

Hidden browns hold the eager leaves together.

I was thinking of calling you. I opened the door

We spent the day playing Laura Ingalls, picking apples, baking pies.

And something in me shattered. He sat buried in blankets,

I liked stretching up and up, feeling for that perfect apple

Vomit sliding through his fingers, body shaking

Above me, barely grasping its round body, and pulling down.

With quiet sobs as his stomach rejected all those pills.

The plastic bag taut and precariously expanding.

Forgotten tears on his face, his eyes couldn’t find mine.

Bundled in sweatshirts and scarves, the kitchen’s warmth was welcome.

The ambulance came with shouting, enraged lights. I don’t remember calling.

Fingers sticky with sugar and lemon and apples, our voices rose and fell,

It’s ok, Em, he’s ok. I just didn’t know, I thought he was happy.

Creating with forgettable words, a cherished and worn melody.

And then I opened the door, I opened the door and he was dying.