Girl or Just Violence from Here: Poem Six
I wish you could stay until our meteors cease sailing across the sky and until full moons silver-shadow the sun. I don’t want to forget your wink and smile, penumbra of strong brown arms circling, chamomile comfort after basilisks and werewolves, bucking white appaloosas named Man Handler, and breaking a tooth in junior high gym. I watched them spread you around the lonely white pine high in granite mountains nudging the sun blue and silver. You will rain down on the trees you loved, white ashes swimming in the wind. I will gradually forget tousled coffee hair, indigo eyes, narrow smile, and hard hands. I will gradually forget tiny goodnight kisses on my cheek or forehead I never told you why I tattooed blue moons and flames on my shoulder. You never asked I could have written I love Daddy, but I remember midnight novas and blue zero-bag sleep camps on back patios. You loved me then, reversing your white ford into black light poles neglecting to cinch your silver saddle. Now I just want to tell you that stars mean everything.