poem14 Nov 2016 08:00 am

V0042744 Heliotrope (Heliotropium sp.): entire Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://wellcomeimages.org 1 print : etching, with watercolour ; platemark 36.7 x 22.7 cm. Heliotrope (Heliotropium sp.): entire flowering plant. Coloured etching by M. Bouchard, 1774. {Romae (Rome) : Bouchard et Gravier, 1774} 1 print : etching, with watercolour ; platemark 36.7 x 22.7 cm. 36.9 x 22.9 cm. BOUCHARD, MAGDALENA Published: - Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Better that he came to me
     than his mother. Her soul
     threadbared by grief
     could not have carried the miracle.

The girlfriends have all
     moved away or moved on
     and that one boy (“Why not?
     A mouth’s a mouth,” and he was
     so wrong, embouchure and enthusiasm
     leagues beyond any bad girl’s)
     now he’s a star who hates to talk
     about his hick hometown.

Better that he came to me
     the girl next door
     ten years younger than he
     and unburdened by memory or

I inherited this house
     with the overgrown hedges.

I inherited him too
     I guess.

Hidden by towering boxwood
     he sits on my back deck
     low to the ground, legs
     sprawled and hands spread wide
     behind him as he absorbs
     the honeyed hours.

And wherever he was before
     (“With the angels now,” my mom said
     eyes teary at the tragedy
     and she was so wrong)

I know it wasn’t heaven
     not the way he lifts his face to the sun
     not the way he hungers for the light.


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