lamellae

i was thinking  this week of how you
 were stronger than we gave you
credit for, how you disappear then return
 with a new twist in your story
how that story ends back where you began-
 struggling to breathe.


()

your mother took me fishing as a child.
i was not a good companion, talked too much
as children will.once she told me how
you fell out a second story window
when you were two.  mostly though
she didn't talk while fishing. if we hooked something
at the end of the cane poles, she wouldn't let me
take it off. you gotta watch out for the gills
she'd say, handling the small bream gingerly.
 she removed the hook with a pair of pliers.



()

 i got  a call at college saying if you want
to see her, you better come soon.
when i got there they told me she caught
pneumonia last week. she's dead.
she was swimming in her own fluids
and just stopped surfacing.






(*)







you always showed up   thanksgiving
at one of your fellow orphan's house.
we'd talk, exchange numbers then promptly
lose them i asked you about falling out the window
FALLING? hell no, you said staring pointedly
at your brother.  i was pushed. you were not pushed
says my dad. bullshit i was there!
i was PUSHED.as teens
my sisters and i visited your ranch. we
 raided the fields for mushrooms
because my older sister said they could make you fly.
when you found us in the back yard,
daring each other to take the first bite,
you took a sip of your highball
and said girls, you gotta watch out for the gills.
if they ain't purple, you best not eat them.







()()




the lobby of the new hospital
out on 27 is a soaring vault with lemallae of glass,
sunlight breaks apart in prisms, dapples
the italian marble floors. my flip flops flap
noisily during the long walk to information.
you are in room 455, progressive care.
in my hands, a vase which holds
 a floating lily and a purple tetra.
i set it beside your prone body, chest
struggling, oxygen mask on your face.
we share the same lungs. remember, i whisper,
you have to watch the gills.