Thursday, March 14, 2013

For Dakota, Who Would Be 18 Now

I remember I taught you 
how to spit
and when our mom 
didn't like it
I pointed out
that someone had to do it

I remember our grandma
watching you
watching the beginning
of Rocky Horror
you transfixed
grandma mortified
even more so when
we all shrugged
said it was your favorite
you couldn't have been 
more than two

I remember your very first
face
scrunched up tight
in the hospital
and how when they asked
if I'd cut your cord
I said yes
how it was the first thing
I ever did for you

I remember your shaggy hair
the way it flung around
as you chased my kids
your niece, your nephew
down every inch 
of my hallway
and when I said Quit it
you did
but laughed at me 
anyway

I remember rocking you
when I was 
fifteen
and you were
new
how my best friend and I 
were already planning 
to get you into trouble
one day
when we were thirty 
and you were
fifteen

I remember your names-
what you called me 
before you could 
say my name right
and
the H in your middle name
that never should have 
been there
and 
the name you
swore was yours
and not made up
even though none of us
had ever
heard it before

I remember you 
proud
and smart
and funny
and the same kind of 
almost-psychic that
all of us are
in this family

I remember 
how you seemed
towards the end
that no one saw coming
to be on the brink
of changing

I remember, remember
I remember
you
Rest sweetly
little brother
keep spitting

1 comment:

  1. Keep spitting. Another stunning poem. Thank you for writing these. Thank you for posting them.

    ReplyDelete