i can’t teach you to
love yourself,
but i wish i could
teach you to see
yourself the way i
see you. if you could
see the way you glow,
feel the radiance of
your heart when you
enter a room. you
would never question
it, never question it.

most sunny afternoons
i could swear i hear you
from behind me with a
hey, dewdrop or a
how you doin’ today, mim
and i think when i turn i’ll
see you walking up, tall
and gangly with a hat on
and your big smile. but it’s
always
just a breeze through my hair,
always
just the warmth of a spring
day on my face.
mom says it’ll get easier, says
we should all keep believing
that it’s you in those moments,
reaching out from some far off
intangible place in the only ways
you can.
he just wants to see you smile,
baby girl.
so i’m trying to reach back in
the ways i think you would if
this had been the other way
around and i hope you see me,
hope you can feel my love
floating up to wherever you
are. i hope you’re proud of me.

you are a ****, she said
she
she
she
she said, *you are a ****.
i have scraped knees and
a quickly bruising elbow,
a finger to my lips and a
dinosaur washrag dripping
onto my thigh.
but, grandma, she said-
there is a calming, silencing
tone to the thumb wiping
my face clean, a soft smile.
even gardeners mistake the
new, stray trees on their
fence lines sometimes, meg.

“i was born to make biscuits”
and so we let him.
flour, butter, one egg, messiest
table in the hole entire county.
mom watches bug and the boys
roll in the leaves outside, and
greg and i drink coffee by the fire
in thick socks and knitted throws.
a burst of the season arrives with
each sibling but we smile anyway,
kisses and cold hands pressed on
our warm cheeks until we're all
the same temperature. pop's biscuits
are done, so we sit and don't say
grace- just thank each other for
the things we have which no one
else could have given us. mom's
already missing the birds, and
wendy says she thinks she found
one of katy's old hats in the back
of her garage last month and she
even brought it with her this time.
we talk and we laugh and the little
boys nap and we just are.
we just are.

orange soda, fizzy tongue,
creamsicle smiles.
we lived in sync, there,
with an ocean breathing
between us.
i would have swallowed
the sun if it could have
helped cool you down
but i wanted to burn
god, how i wanted to burn.

people only knock

for the warmth, outstay

their welcome,

i've never wanted to

love quickly

i want to lay each

brick, caulk every corner

and be

*sure