the night the sky broke open
all purple and bloody
like the bruises tiring my thighs
was the same night my father died
was the same night my mother cried
was the same night I
ran around in circles waiting
for my legs to fall off
for my body to disappear
like a bird shot away like a sad holiday
I loved you that night
like a whispered ghost
like a poorly built church
that night you were at my father’s funeral
you were burying his body
holding the shovel between your hands
(calloused as a windy lake)
that night at my father’s funeral
my throat was damp with guilt
I was not like my mother
my face was not marked, not wet