I hear your voice echo on the walls of the Tiffany box—
hello hello
hello
hello
—with that southern-belle cadence
you spoke with always, like when you
told us we never had to knock, just
come in through the garage
on my graduation day I opened it for the first time
little silver teardrop on a little silver chain
delicate, like all of you, except your fingers
delicate, like the line you’re walking now
your robin’s-egg antique pickup gathering dust as I am miles away
sheepdog going deaf, legs shaky when she stands
I only allotted for that one loss this year.
on new year’s morning when we all
stomached the black eyed peas for tennessee good will
hung over and sweet-heavy with cinnamon rolls
and decadent, permanent, big hardy love
I spent my wish on the usual
and hey, maybe a couple more years for the dog.
hello hello
hello
hello
hello?
your lilting voice echoes every time I put on that necklace
and feel you, savor you around my neck for every
wine-drunk dinner and every nantucket porch photograph—
god if I would have known to wish on that