my brother is going to college;
my aunt is going to heaven. can’t
imagine the jet lag. i find myself
telling you about it in the mirror.

you taught me that, telling, that is.
you thawed my throat, traced
the timeline of my torment back
to the past life where you left me.

it’s warmer now, two years later,
the tone of my voice. deer graze
for longer, the tv is turned down,
clouds are shaped like cauliflower.

if i could force this feeling to the groumd
and make it talk, i worry it wouldn’t 
have anything to say other
than asking how you’ve been.