grieving in pieces

I am a bull grieving
an aging body
that is grieving my father so hard
it is breaking

in pieces

I’m floating in a bath
of epsom and a multitude
of unnamed genders

I am January grieving the sun
that is grieving its rotation
through genocide

a friend nurses her newborn
while she grieves
the companionship of life inside her
and I grieve the reality

of being a half-boy
with a uterus
that will never house another

my knees and back grieve
the moss-winter trees
who have laid themselves down
across the creek, roots upended
like palms to the rain

as they too grieve
all the things my Dad whispers
in octaves
I’ve never trusted myself
enough to hear