Patrón
Patrón skips
chemistry
to teach his mother
how to dance.
They tumble
along balance bars
while her pearled
dreams drip
to the floor.
They dance
underwater
in a room
of salty tears.
All the better
to dip you with
he says.
Patrón
she says
how you give.
Some floors
are better made
for grief.
+
Mother he says
I’d prefer
to grow up
diagonal.
She sets a bowl
of tomato soup
in front of him
while he
polishes his shoes.
+
I am waiting
patiently
Patrón informed
a snowdrift.
December
and he’s learned
to dip cookies
one by one
in a cauldron
of chocolate.
Between his
fingers he lets
sprinkles fall
in the shape
of how his
voice used to
sound when
he laughed.
