For Trisha

1.

They were your anchors—

Your parents.

Without them,

What can the boat do

But respond

To tides and currents?

In time, you’ll hoist sail;

Rudder and keel intact.

You can navigate—

There are islands to find.

But when you get there—

There being anywhere—

What will hold you?

What will keep you from drifting?

2.

Grieving over something

You never even knew

You loved: that gloomy

House of your childhood

Where you were mostly

Miserable.

Sold now,

And tomorrow a stranger

Will begin to live there.

Lighter and lighter as we grow

Older—stuff lost, or cast off.

3.

We’re so near, but because of that,

Sometimes we need to shout.

We call it “clearing the air.”

We’re allowed to say mean things

As long as they’re true, or seem so

In that moment.

Also, they must be

Evenly matched—tit for tat.

And later, we have to take it all back.

We don’t do this for fun. We do it

When one of us knows her heart’s

In the right place, but no longer beating;

Or one of us notices his lungs are ok,

But he’s no longer breathing.

4. Prayer/Plea

Come now, come soon, I summon you

Who, alone, can burst this husk

Of numb that I’ve become.

And bring your jumper cables,

Your battery juiced with blue fire—

I need its zap.

I need you

And your voodoo lute. I need

One more of your rescues

Innumerable.

Heed this, my howled plea

That’s half-past last gasp:

I need you to

Horizon-happen, bringing the usual.