On Your Birthday Sept 21, 1997

Poltergeist of my Heart

Dead Husband of my Childhood

Tomorrow I will tell our son once again how I loved you

Hoping somehow my telling him will soothe your raging Ghost.

He hides pictures of you in places where he thinks no one will find them

We all grieve in our own way

Each of us has an air pocket of guilt hidden away in the folds of our hearts

If you could just see him now, it would be like looking in a mirror!

The long fingers, the arrogant smirk

The slanted eyes watching the world in a paranoid fascination

It’s your loss, you asshole

You Dead Dead Man

He is beautiful

And you’re missing it.

Our Handsome Son, All grown up. 3

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