5, 10, 15

It's this
week again, where we lose
time and people
every year the same
loss

5, 10, 15:

the 5th was Roberto spinning off the earth
into the ditch when the square inch of bike tire
no longer hugged the road
and his brother Carl's arms
couldn't hug life in

the 10th was Caleigh not quite seeing light
stuck as she was by the midwife's needle
when we trusted not knowing Lori
kept fear loaded in the syringe

she would have been 15 this year
maybe she's wearing a quinceanera dress
decked out in rhinestone
stars pulled from heaven

I don't quite know what to do
with the quiet
echo of his laugh
and the hanging moment
when the doppler was silent
5, 10, 15 seconds, no heartbeats

no heartbeats after