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