St. Margaret’s, England

I remember heavy velvet too awkward to fold
and all the momentos you kept in the attic
green glass necklaces
indian fabric, hand stitched
the mirror above the bed
feng shui
I remember drinking German beer with lunch
Huw proudly poured, always sitting at the head of the table
the trap door on the floor next to the kitchen sink
walking down the tricky steps to the garden
an english garden, overgrown with weeds
I watched you pin the laundry
your white freckled skin
your beautiful red hair
we had just come back from Paris
Huw was sitting in a white plastic lawn chair smoking your Gaulois
he said smoking causes premature gray hairs
I still wonder if that’s true



i gave birth my 8 year old self

on the red velvet couch
this afternoon
gangly and petite
i lay disabled watching her mourn for 6 hours
i could never console her

i got up to get ready for a date with a man
and fried chicken
i thought of you
i thought i was not ready

when i get home i am sleepless
my chest hammers my heart
I climb the fire escape to the roof
lie on the aluminum coat
the clouds cover the moon
revealing a brilliant silver sky

the wind is swimming
a fast breaststroke
the birds are asleep

i ask god what should i be?
as what i am makes no more sense