The Residuals By Joe Garvey

The first death was quiet.

A chair. A jacket.

The air continuing

without instruction.

I understood.

The second death was a trade.

I taught my body

to accept impact.

Linebackers learn this early.

Hesitation is the only ghost.

The pads held their shape

without me.

The third death is a slow leak.

Glass still offers a version.

The silver is thin.

I keep walking.

Nothing is stolen.

Only the parts

that mistook endurance

for a pulse.

Joe Garvey played football at Hofstra University and later worked as an actor before pivoting to poetry. His work has appeared in Mad Swirl. He writes at poetking.substack.com