Bring the OJ
Josh, when living
your best life you are a floodgate,
the last restraint between
us open mouths and feelings
we had never had or have had since.
Until you, we didn’t know the sky
could turn purple, or that our
bruised bodies could be targets
for a kiss—from beneath a mustache,
yes, or from a needle. Thank you
for teaching me to suffer
with company. Thank you
for showing us that together
we can weather even weeks
of rattling at death’s door.