I taped my favorite pictures of you
Around my mirror, and
Every morning I see your face
With my reflection,
And I hope that I might be turning
Into a fraction of the
Woman you were.

You carry my heart with you-
And I don’t know where you rest now,
But I carry your ghost
In the space in my chest and
I am never without your memory,
And everything I do is with the echo
Of you watching over me
And I hope fate will have it that
My heart and your heart will come
Together and I won’t be empty
And alone anymore.

When I Am Old

When I am old
I will take walks every day, and
I will grow flowers in the patch of soil
Outside my apartment
And wear a large straw hat.

I will sing, my voice
Quieter and deeper with age,
Songs that I am only learning now,
And I will play the piano
With slow, curled fingers.

I will have friends,
And I will invite them over
For homemade lemonade
And tea cakes served
On a pristine floral tray.

When I am old
I will have lines on my face 
That get deeper every time
I smile, and I will wear
Prim mauve lipstick,
Kept in a monogrammed case.

I will know the names
Of all the birds that stop to
Gorge themselves on the feeder
Outside my kitchen window, and
I will tell myself stories about
Their little dramas.

I will have vases with fresh flowers
In every room of my home.
I will laugh at lewd jokes
And I will read tawdry dog-eared
Novels with pride.

When I am old
I will wear colorful dresses
And every day I will take brunch
On my patio, mimosa in hand,
And say hello to all the dogs
On their morning walks.

And when I am old,
I will know how to be happy.

I learned fear and anger at a young age,
I learned to make myself hard and sharp
And strong and fierce.

When the child arrived, he was soft
And smooth and round. He was happy
And unafraid.

I made myself into a cage for him,
My sharp corners and hard edges facing
Outward, warding off the world.

The child is still soft, has not learned
To be afraid. His glow shines between
My ribs, and I keep him safe in me.

I am become flame,
White and blue, and I roar
With the multitudes.

Even the stars are fire,
And baby, I burn.

The Queen of Nothing walks in darkness,
Feet light on dark permafrost, land barren
But for the wolves at her heels.

The moon shines down on her, distant sister-
For the moon was a queen herself, once, but now
Only rules the night, her stars so distant
As to be nothing more than memories. 

It’s already too warm out, air heavy and wet and no real
Wind to ease the pressure but then
There’s a breeze coming off the fields and through town
And on its way to you it stops by
Every lilac bush it can find so it can drop
A full bouquet in your nose and for that brief, too-brief
Moment you can remember why some people
Love the spring.