F irst, he puts me.
R aises my hopes for the now.
A lways there for me when I get out of jail.
N ever gets angry when I wake him up to share my dreams.
K eeps me stable and out of the hospital.
I gave him my handmade holiday ornament. I jingled the bell as I wished him a Merry Christmas. I think he may have smiled; however, he did not reach out his disfigured hands to take my gift. I put the small present on the table next to his wheel chair.
As I left the nursing home, I found one last ornament at the bottom of a cardboard box. I jingled the bell and remembered our secret.
I live near the airport, and everyday low flying planes enter and exit my life unnoticed.
Today over my favorite part of the Nutcracker Suite, I heard the news tell me my new country had attacked my old one.
I left the tiny room and sat in my half empty closet. I thought of my grandmother. She once told me wearing red panties brought nightly visits from our dead loved ones. I’ve worn red panties every day and night since my father died. Now, I will wear two.
I will go up to New York City not Walmart to buy my new red mourning under dressing. I will cry in the fitting room under bright lights and security camera scrutiny.
Now, I sit staring at the light’s line tracing the closet door’s edges until it blurs.
Then, I hear the muffled sonic boom.
I don’t know
who escaped whom
as you chased the air
above my head with
coming down only
the pretty little thing
in the seat to my right.
Your distaste of me never makes me blush.