To be breathed out

by the box kite bought at Walmart on his last afternoon, $5.99/
his hairbrush upturned on the bathroom counter/by
the dark he woke to, tree frogs
in undergrowth, the rusted shed with its lock shattered, what word/for
our hands fumbling in pure
daylight/by our tracks browning the carpet,
his Thai elephant missing a single ivory tusk/by what choral theater
allowed me to think/
portable home, a little immortality/
by Xanax from his bag of last possessions, clattered down steps
of the funeral home/by
relentless relief/he was gone, his nowhere pivot/
the crew swearing in soaked t-shirts, the flatbed
heaved away/
by his wallet perched on my washing machine back home

Rachel Moritz is the author of Borrowed Wave (Kore Press, 2015) and five poetry chapbooks, most recently How Absence (MIEL Books, 2015). Her poems have appeared inĀ American Letters and Commentary, Aufgabe, Colorado Review, Iowa Review, TYPO, andĀ Volt. She lives with her partner and son in Minneapolis, where she teaches creative writing in the community. Learn more at