They Don’t Tell You

What stuns most is how nothing changes
except the one thing that’s changed.
The tedium of continuing to do the heretofore.
The bills, the traffic snarls, the meals warmed up.
The first year passing, the date looming,
then nothing. Nothing much. Just a card
to mark the time. A measuring stick.
But things stay mostly the same, a tarp
thrown over the pit that yawns in the yard.
Puddles gather in it, then dry. Its fill dirt
carted far away years ago, so that
nothing piled after in its place will ever
quite match the hollow’s former hue or heft.

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