Heather T

not a poem for andy

Dear Andy,

I walked first, you know

even though you were older

and the sun watched

you splashing at the water\'s edge

and I in my soggy pants

the time before Little Swimmers

making nowhere circles

we ate together at the little table

my chubby legs and patent leather

you kicked off your cowboy boots

 

wasn\'t long before we were running

away from Granny mostly

when you had the BB gun

intent on the forest squirrels

and me staying behind

just because I was a girl

but I swore I could be one for a day

a boy with you down below the pasture

you said I could be a girl

later to skin and cook

 

they almost called the police

two five year olds alone and gone

the river was swollen from days of rain and rowdy

and you were not afraid

climbing out over the river on that huge branch

promising to catch fish

so we wouldn\'t starve after dark

and I cried girl tears

afraid you would be swept away

and again later

when we were spanked then hugged tight

for daring to slip away to the river

we didn\'t know how to swim

you said I made a bad boy

 

and had no inkling of the years ahead

when we would be together again

drowning in addictions

or of the day I offered you a branch

that you would refuse to take

 

always tempting the universe

your bungee jumps and hotel dives

from the third floor into the pool

you laughing at me for being afraid

because the roof wasn\'t as far

from the trampoline as I thought

and years went by

and I dared you to do better

weeping those girl tears all over your lap

you were mad as hell but too unsteady to fight

when I wouldn\'t let go of your hands

but I knew you well enough

you didn\'t want me to smell your fear

 

so I thought of you today

when there were 12 candles on your motorcycle cake

and the lifeguard\'s whistle around your neck

you bragging about how you always got to see

fireworks over the ocean on your birthday

and that my husband said I shouldn\'t have

when I went to the open bag

and kissed your cheek

with your eyes closed that way

 

as more time ticks by I hope

to become more eloquent

shaping the memory of you into something smooth

birthing the poem

that has been lead in my chest

for eleven terrible years now

but in the smoke of your 42 candles

this is all I can bear to give

Love you always,

Raggedy Ann
(I know, I\'m such a girl)