First Time Since

Standing in your kitchen
between towers of boxes
that overflow with a lifetime

of belongings, I cannot move
forward or backward
and Michael

sits bewildered on a barstool,
elbow resting
on the counter.

We do not
know how
to begin.

And you walk toward us then,
young and tan, shirtless
and smiling. From behind you

Michael looks at me,
raises his fist and mouths the words
muy fuerte,

and we understand
that the way you looked at the very end
was actually

the dream.  When I wake
the pillow is already
wet with tears.

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2 thoughts on “First Time Since

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