Springtime lingering on my lips
/
i breathe into the sound of baby birds
calling for their mother
and i am reminded that you never will
all i have to offer
/
she is long gone,
and much of the carbon in her little body
has already moved on to someplace else.
and with that revelation, a relief --
river part 2
/
i always think you’re dying.
isn’t that the silliest thing?
you have long been dead
and in the ground
why, why, why
/
it’s not productive to think about
but sometimes it’s important to go over it all again,
like a perverted reassurance
that she died and it’s not my fault or her fault or their fault
she died not so long ago
/
my body knows
it quivers into december,
as warm wreaths brighten up lampposts
set against skies rich with winter coming
Missed kindergarten
/
a backpack is full of hope and adventure
and discovery of who that precious child will become
in this strange formidable world that all children are called to conquer