the year I lost you
I made rules
No pride
Do anything…legal
(So running to Canada was out)
Believe God is big enough.
I found your mother through the ghost of a house burned to the ground
I remember how normal
Her bathroom was–soap, shampoo, hairbrush…
No signs of the cosmic upheaval they want us all to believe
Your beautiful mother
Sat on the futon next to you as I memorized how right you looked together
With your baby pink phone repeating may I help you?
In her metallic voice Asian?
There is a picture somewhere in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Of a man you once knew
Ultimate grief
Is a synonym for all the lies they told us
… 17 years to say, I love you
Rapunzel girls, women now.
Know your true names
Your true history has always been
Beloved, Little Ones
Happy birthday. I love you
Sept. 6 1997