XXVIII

New York was far too bittersweet
For my taste-
I spit it out, gave it back.
You lied, my friend- my poor and
Huddled mass isn’t good enough
For your golden streets.
I got off the rescue ship thinkin’
That survivin’ must mean I’m gonna
Be somebody, that maybe because a lifeboat
Walled me in, held my hand through disaster-
I had some meaning. Some reason
To walk on tall into your open,
American arms.

But I checked the list of the dead
Today. I read name and name and name
And
There is no way there were two
Margaret Clarence Smitholds
On that there ocean voyage.
What’s so dead about me?

I checked today and I walk and I talk
Far better than a plastic doll
And there’s no livin’ part of me I left on
That boat
‘cept maybe my heart

Because lord, there ain’t no
Dead in my skin
But I’m **** close to not bein able
To feel
anything

***

I am the word of God.
My spine was first creased at baby Grace’s
Christening,
When all I could see were the deep canyons
Of the priest’s cheeks
Warmed by the heat of many candles
And smiling eyes.

I saw her marriage renewal, the day the crisp
Irish rain made my body weak,
But their hands clasped tight in a labyrinth
Of unity
I hoped it would one day save them

I embraced the thick leather of a suitcase
Many years too used
The mismatched socks and I held tight
As the waves tried to jostle us free
But I, I am the word
Of God
I will not be moved or
Redefined

The air felt too close one night
The dark too dark
The air too clear
My heartbeat too fierce

And my pages, my pages open
An unfamiliar hand follows the words of
Hallowed be Thy Name
And if I could hold them back I would,
My people, I would cradle
You

But I can only beg of you
To keep your faith
No matter how much it may
Sting

Keep your faith and I’ll hold you fast and
strong

XXXI

Dear Lifeboat 13,

You saved my life over and over again
and my words,
My simple and barren words,
Will be but wisps on your memory when you finally
Decay.
I almost didn't get to leave, 13.
Second class and I just had to play the patience charade,
In a mass of people more like a brain cell
Than a crowd.
I was the last one in.
13, did you feel my body sink into your floorboards
And my nails scratch your oars?
Did my tears make you shudder
With the weight of my life that was before-
Did you feel it disappearing?

Lifeboat 13, you saved me,
And every day you will save me
From being a number in a book

I may have lived before,
But you will always be the vessel
That truly brought me home.

Sincerely.

XXXII

February 2, 2001.
The last male survivor of the sinking of the Titanic
Has died in Southern France.
He did not remember being afraid.
Why should he have been?
Cradled in a father’s embrace,
Still warm from sleep.
A father would never know that his boys,
Would one day be known only as Orphans
Of the Titanic
As children with no names-
But at least they lived.
At least they lived.

The hands of a ship that took so many
That left so many wasted,
That took the souls of the fathers
Of the mothers
Of the sons, the daughters
Left him-
Still warm from sleep

He lived to be 92 years old.

I held an arm over my belly
trying to feel her tiny heart
beat
and sense that life that has become
my own;
wanting to cradle my baby girl
and sing her sweet lilting lullabies

The crib sat silently, waiting
already lined with blankets, sheets
and a colorful fish mobile.
We talked to each other, sometimes
since we shared the same wanting

He spread his fingers on my
belly
in the morning before the sun
rose
When the rain still pattered on the
rooftop at dawn
he held us,
me and our little girl;
kept us warm until day broke

The lights were too bright
and the room too cold
and I was screaming-
and,
and then crying.
Crying for her closed eyes
and blue face.

I held an arm over my
belly
trying to feel her heart
beat
wanted to cradle my baby
girl
to sleep

I saw you in the mirror today.
I washed away your sleep and saw your eyes opening with the light of day.
I touched the sorrow in your cheekbones and felt the blood
in your brow.
What the hell happened last night?
Your eyes- for once, I can’t read them. Can I see what you have seen?
I reach out and,ouch, all I feel is your hurt…
No, no, don’t look away, don’t look away, chin up-
I’m sending you my love.
Remember the summer?
Remember the rain and the tickle, prickle, vivid, candid sensation?
Remember your first kiss? And how he missed?
No, no, return to the sunny day.
Yes, I feel the split skin now, too.
It’s a web of truths I don’t understand.
I see the darkness.
Come on, snap to- I’m losing you, I’m losing you
I’m losing who you are come on show me who you are
WAKE UP

Yes, yes, when I close my eyes, I can’t believe the sight.
I don’t know how to calculate the escape velocity from Earth’s orbit-
I fall asleep in astronomy, too.
Your eyes are pools of passion and I see them fragmenting.
You aren’t allowed to curl up and die, remember?
Not when friends still visit and mothers still call and strangers still say hello and I LOVE YOU still exists even if it sometimes feels like an alternate universe and yeah life ***** and waking up and being the one in pain hurts but you
are a butterfly
Beautiful, agile, free-
Flight, yeah, it exists!
Look, I’m wiping away your tears,
Remember that there is no true fear.
Dawn still comes.

Dawn still comes.

And I love  you.

You have subconsciously immortalized yourself
On the ceiling of my room.
I didn’t know you, then.
We were just learning to hold hands and
Walk to the same rhythm and you didn’t know
How much my heart yearned for you.
You didn’t know that, then.
You bought me glow-in-the-dark stars
And we rushed home to stand precariously on the bed
Just for the sake of Orion’s Belt.
We turned out the lights and I showered you,
Sprinkling the tiny illuminations all over your soul.
We stargazed and cuddled close until our eyes
Started to gently close
And under the warmth of what must have been a thousand
Beams of light
I believe we began

Funny how we all woke up
standing still
with our arms reaching for the sky
in a blue twilight too young for dawn.

Some mornings it was movement
that dredged our eyes to the vivacity
of sunrise
or sometimes it was soft sounds--
maybe our calico pattering and puffing away
the morning dew across the kitchen floor.
But when we awoke there
all standing together
(shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand)
it was like the assimilation of earth and beyond
had come to pound down our door

That day was to be our
[up]rising
birds singing after a thunderstorm
or water trickling into a desert
we were to be the catalysts
but weren’t afraid.