The John H. Bennett, Jr. Prize

Return to Charleston

I’m glad the dead don’t return
routinely. Coming back live
skews everything enough.
Cafes swap sides of the street.
Landmarks drift further downtown.
My office relocates to another
wing. Folks seem happier
to see me than I am to be here.
Even though the crows greet me
with welcoming caws, I’m sure
they’re in on the joke.
It’s hard to fall in love again
with those already grieved.