A Young Girl Considers the unknown

Published by Barrelhouse, 2019

When I am hundred, how old will you be?
I won’t be.

Without armor
I’m awaken to mortality.

During the final four days
of our mother’s life

my sister couldn’t look at her.
I would lead my sister to our mother’s bed

with closed eyes
she would whisper into our mother’s ear.

The child asks, you will be with God?
I tell her I believe in magic

in birds winging their way in timed translation.
The tooth fairy will come soon.

Here the nameless remain
asleep in my eyes.

Will you be in heaven?
In her bath

she pleas for another sleepover
while a piece of soap

slips from my hand.
I wish you will come back then.

Me too. Are you crying?
A little.

I’m adapting to time
vibrating through rivers   

and sand scrambling
my brain—it’s a low

frequency sound traveling
so quiet and deep.

BACK TO POETRY