For Monty Python

When Andy died
on Flag Day
1970
I was 20
How could I know

I would learn
to hold back grief
choking the fire back
until it would rip

Exploding the
walls with banshee
shrieking and howling
terrifying

Consumed with loss
and no one
else to feel the pain
or walk the path

I had to walk
on my own
continuing on
losing my loves

husband, mom and dad
the bodies
began to pile up
at faster rate

Mourning becomes
exhausting
leaving deep wrinkles
where eyes sparkled

Eyes still sparkle
lips still smile
and, for all its risks,
desire persists

My heart craving
going back
for more of the same
I’m not dead yet.