We dot the refrigerator with picture of her

You ask her ages in each

Was she six? Was she seven?

She was a ray of light

A geometric concept you would snub if you met it in a lesson at school

“No, entiendo, maestra”

A comet streaking across a jeweler’s velvet sky

Quotidian violence and loss—your inheritance of blood

I conjure up

The last time I hugged her tight

My regrets about the mythical creatures we would have to have bought tickets for on the last plane

Puddles of urine and light

A small storm in Nashville

Target was closed and we drove

Across the geography of loss we did not want or ask for

When what we want is only obtainable through the persistent, audacious supplication

Miracles, please

Dear Jesus

Dear-heart-Savior

Nothing impossible for You