Before school, Mom takes us to get TB tests
to make sure we didn’t catch it
from breathing in Dad, orbiting his space.
The doctor gives us a sheet, what to watch for,
what could grow.
I wonder how scared Dad was when he had his HIV test,
long ago.
Wonder who went with him. Mom. James.
Or if he went alone.
April and I clutch hands,
hold each other up as we
breathe deep,
lock arms,
march in.
I enter Astro late,
Mr. Lamb’s talking about Carl Sagan.
A quote of his on the board, underlined:
We are made of star stuff.
Mr. Lamb goes on to say, whether or not any of us believe
in something spiritual, we are connected,
we all share matter.
I slide in next to Dylan.
Write him a note:
Is this astronomy or philosophy?
He writes same thing,
asks how I’ve been.
Look down at my injection site, so far nothing’s grown.
Shrug, not sure what to say. Thoughts of Adam come too close.
Look at Dylan, push them away.
Write a note to Chloe,
an apology for ditching her for Adam.
Draw Dylan a doodle of a girl,
me,
floating above it all,
head shaped like a star.
He takes my pen,
|
transforms my star |
into a heart. |