I wonder what your life was like when you were young.
I picture quiet streets, everyone knew your family.
Everyone knew you.
In grocery stores they’d ask what you were learning.
They’d tell you you were smart.
Leaves under your feet
school trips and brothers and God
or something like it
How did you picture your life would be?
Did you know I’d turn up
like I had some right to be there?
(That’s how I usually turn up, and I usually don’t.)
But I come in anyway
I dismantle what people think is true
I break teacups and leave traces
blood and glitter, glass and gold
Sometimes I forget to clean up the mess.
Sometimes I remember and leave it.
Did you see it coming?
Did you know me in your mother’s arms
in the sun flooding your eyes
in the way you think you hear me laugh when I’m somewhere else crying?
I spent years looking for you
not even knowing I was
and I’ll spend the rest of my life
trying to leave you
with nothing to gather or sweep or scrub or throw away
It’s the very least I can do.

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