Mardi –
I use Carmex now.
I say now – even though I just got it from Target yesterday
I say Target – even though I didn’t go into Target, I just pulled up to the drive up spot so they could load my bags in
I say my bags – even though it was just one bag: Carmex, tea, washer wash
I say Carmex, tea, washer wash – even though there was also a bag of vegan chocolate covered coconut
My point is,
I use Carmex now
and even though I think you used the original and mine is strawberry
well, the pack came with cherry and mint too, but my current open Carmex is strawberry
even though mine might be a little different
every time I use it,
I think of you and your Carmex
and how it seemed like it was always just there, almost unnoticeable, but there
like on your van console
like on your classroom desk
like in your pocket
once I think you dropped it in the parking lot and then found it at the end of the day or the next day or something and I remember asking you if you were sure it was yours?
Memories are weird but
I use Carmex now
because my lips have been so dry
the last time I saw you, I think there was a Carmex on your night stand
I can’t be sure, but I think it was there, almost unnoticeable, but there
next to the glass of water with the straw
and you were thirsty
and I gave you sips of your water
and we said I love you
and you said you were so glad I stopped by
and I was glad to stop by
– Ona
On a Thought 
I felt every word. Hugs xo
This is so beautiful. I love the stop and go rhythm of the poem, the “I say…even though…” in the first stanza and the hesitancy in some lines contrasting with the pouring out of words in other lines. Your ending, with just a hint of the scene, but so much love, is so powerful.
Your poem captures that fractured quicksilver element of grief. I hope that Carmex becomes a comfort.
I drink peach tea. I only ever had it at Brenda’s house before.
Beautiful writing.