I originally wrote this poem as a sonnet when I was in college, meditating on the theme of love presumed to be inherent in the sonnet form. I thought, love takes many forms, and so. This updated version of the poem appears in my book The Sharp Edges of Water, published by Odeon Press in 2018.

***

Lullaby for a Crying Child

When my cousin died, olive skin and thick
.     black hair and twelve years old laid under
.          dirt and roses, I found out death’s simple

trick: it’s no one-way gate, but a long silk
.     skirt in the rain. I peel the silk from my
.          skin, hang it dripping in the bathroom.

My cousin defies death’s veil, ages beyond his
.     allotted years, finds me in a dream, touches
.          my hands. I look at him, through him, and

wake to rain. Left but not alone. My skirt
.     dripping on the tile.

You can order a copy of The Sharp Edges of Water here or at just about any bookstore or online bookseller.