Sometimes I need proof that he once was
-- can't trust my mind, it's made up things before.
sometimes I close my eyes just to to see him,
just to peak at him again
dozing in the chair
on the inside of my lids, just to see
him folding clothes,
just to see him stirring
meatball soup--he looks good in his bones--
just to see him, sometimes, just to see him
flossing while we watch the evening news,
just to see him like that again.
And then the whole world stops,
the whole world shatters into bits of glass
right there behind my eyes,
the whole world bursts
and I am melting at the knees
inside a hale of this confetti.
.
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