It is spring

Or rather winter

When the sun is full

and shining

and large

and shaped like that bowl of soup that I spilled–

So many times–

And the wind blows like the delighted laughter of babies

And the ground, the dirt, the soil, the earth and the world–

It breathes–

It is dad’s birthday

I am alone in the back living room, where I pull the meaning from things, and then they are lifeless–

Emotionless and barren–

But they are useful.

I am making a paper cake from the remains of a manila folder–

Cream, pale friendship-rose yellow–

I tell myself it is for my presentation at school

That I am being productive

That I am doing something with what I know

That I am applying myself

That summer, when we walked home

And you walked to the side of the path–

Where the grass and the dandelions blend like paints in a bottle–

And when you came back

The fluffy seeds have already floated away

But I smile

And you smile

And I take the empty flower head anyway

Mother calls you

Po po is excited to hear your voice

But I work on

The flap of a butterfly’s wings, tracing itself around me;

Your voice when you don’t just leave me alone;

I was at your door that night,

Did you know?

Listening to your life

And where did I put mine

I let you leave without a word of concern

Because now life says I ignore you

You cannot give me words anymore, and neither can I

Knowing all the names of your friends–

And all the names of your emails and your instagram and you–

Your name–

I called your name, once

You saw me, but life saw you too

And then you pulled away

And all I had left was your name

And then, when you left–

What was my name?

Twisting rectangles around until they become cylinders

Cutting confetti until it becomes paper frosting

Hearing your voice say that everything is fine, everything is beautiful in this world you have birthed yourself into

Mother says you read books to me

That I tried to follow you up the stairs, but couldn’t because crawling was all I knew

That you said you wanted to be a dump truck driver

That you wanted a brother but all you got was me

Candles with molten wax pinned on sunshine yellow cylinder

Cake, says my eyes

Paper lie, says my brain

You left for the world–

I watched you wheel into the sky like swallows flowing out of the eaves–

And while you do not speak to me anymore

And you do not tell me how anything works anymore

And my life says there is nothing to talk about anymore

And the words, they fall like stones sinking into the ocean

And when you find pebbles on the beach, worn away into sand and silt and sediment–

Then will you reply

And will you tell me later, what you’ve done in all these gray years?