By Heather Carnaghan
One year ago today
the whole world pointed at a different north star.
I thought in five year plans and tomorrows
and without fail
my sentences ended in exclamation.
Your perfect name
was forever affixed to my plans for you.
Those mountains we'd climb
were permanent too
like the paint on your nursery wall.
that one year can teach us
to see the tilt in the axis,
the humanity in a whale,
that are no more permanent than you nor I.