There is a man at the front door
dressed like a debt collector
who tells me you owe him something.
He doesn’t know your name,
but he’s sure it’s you he’s looking for.
the window holds the face of a woman
who is convinced she knows
where God is,
and she’s convinced she needs to show you,
but you don’t speak the same language.
Every phone in the house is ringing
and the voice on the other end
says he’s your father
and he’s finally sorry after all these years.
Listen, there’s no way to make this easy.
Listen, I’d bury these ghosts for you but I
can’t kill a dead thing,
no matter how alive it seems.
I would have swallowed your heart and
kept it safe in my growing belly
until it was ready
for this world,
but you’re stronger than that.
Baby, you can’t outrun disease
when it’s growing inside of you.
You should have known that by now,
but I won’t hold it against you.
I’ll get rid of the doorbell
and cut the phone lines to stop the noise
if that will bring the music back.
You are so much louder than
whatever told you to stop singing,
and my ears are all yours
if you’ll take them.
trying to drink hot tea while wearing glasses more like
where the fuck did the laptop go
Give. Even when you know you can get nothing back.