Randi Schalet

Memorial

No memorial for you,

Except the stray addict friend

Texting for a handout,

Except the meth-addled stranger

Parting his hair,

Then smoothing it down,

Then starting again,

The store window, his mirror.

No better than you, this soldier,

His name engraved on a granite bench

Beside the graffitied Hatch Shell.

His mother eating lunch,

Looking out at the Mystic River.

The same age as you when he went to war,

Your war with yourself.

Both of you gone now.

The last video you took--

Barefoot, sweatpants, black wifebeater--

The money laid out on the motel table,

Begging your dealer

For one last favor.

When you injected yourself

In the dry crease of your elbow,

Did you mean to die?

Or get high?

Does it matter?

---

Randi Schalet began writing poetry after her son died of an overdose in 2021. She has recently (2024) had work accepted in Peauxdunque Review, The Write Launch and Prime Time Magazine.

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