Let’s return to the wooden piano—Please.
Or to the glass dish with coated candies
that scatter like rattling bones. Let’s go
downstairs to hear the throbbing keys.
When I am driving home, I count on these
and family. Who would tell me no?
Summer rain, a truck, a hill, and mom
was driving. She spouts blood and repeats
three phrases, puffy breaths that can’t let go.
The world folds and strangers come—Screams.