Umbrella

Asphalt under your galoshes,
Shining in the rain all the
Rainbows of orange and reds and yellows.

Through your eyes, child,
I live again in the t-ball game;
Tagging up in the rain,

Patching up the hole.
I’ll be patching up that hole that you
Somehow ignore, and how the

Bile from my liver dissolved
Every thing in its path until, as from
Stone, I reached in and

Unsheathed the knife and was
Swallowed by the outpour of sorrow.

We moved the gravel,
Piece by piece, and with each
Splash in the puddle, I thought

How each object arrives where it is now and
Does it remember and
How long do my cells remember?

We were all so afraid.
We were all so afraid of me.

Monument of weakness the size of my forearm when
She said, “Your daughter will remember”
“Your strength in this moment.”

Writhing on the carpet like a
Lame bird, I prayed for the
Strike that never came and

Had to learn to live again.

Lost in the typhoon.
Lost in the typhoon flooding the
Hole in my gut.

My knuckles were
White, and my grip was
Lost in the typhoon; I

Had to let it go.

Plop. Plop.
Splosh. Splosh.

So, remember, your father’s strength
Has always been in the company he keeps.

I see the sun hiding
Northeast through the misting, reflecting
Soft, sickly green, and

I am becoming soaked, but
Look how the wood floats!

Look at how colorful the
Asphalt. Look how
Whole the world. Look how

One good day can save a life, and
Look what Mom brought!