Aubade after The End By Emily Vieweg

Aubade after The End

I put you on a pedestal even Gods wouldn’t reach –
couldn’t reach
You’re gone and just memories stay:
when you wooed me with your silly smile

your musical charm and every time I said yes
to your beer night I meant yes to you.
But you didn’t date friends and now

you bequeath to me an occupation:
wondering who you really were
and why I didn’t know your pain
or maybe I just ignored it.

Seventeen gathered at Dan’s house,
another twelve online to take turns
offering memories of you

shooting Black Label in your honor
passing the glass as we did
so long ago.

My six a.m. internal clock woke me from deep sleep – too deep
to dream. But you crept in like always,
wooing with your memory, sweet-talking
with a shot of Jack until I woke to the truth.

The sun was breaking through the snow clouds
Dan was shoveling the walk and I remembered

we weren’t twenty again and
you were really gone
singing off-key with the blue jays
that left a mess on my windshield.

Aubade after The End was originally published by Linden Avenue Literary Journal.

By Emily Vieweg


Emily Vieweg, MFA is a poet and playwright originally from St. Louis, Missouri. Her work has been published in Foliate Oak, The Voices Project, Linden Avenue Literary Journal,, Soundings Review and more. She lives in Fargo, North Dakota where she is a mother of two, pet parent, data processor and adjunct English instructor.

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