If it’s the dying trees or the cold ground
But something about October puts him there
First he’s alive again & I speak of our daughter
Her loose tooth & her favorite song & he seems
To remember her but then she’s back inside me
& he’s rubbing my belly singing Carole King & doesn’t
Know her or want her & tries to name her something
Different & there’s pressure like rocks
In my pelvis & my chest & my throat
My fingers begin to fall off at the knuckle
Then my teeth one by one & suddenly it’s snowing
February & I’m in labor with no warning & I give birth
To a pile of stones & I ask him for his hands to hold her
Or remember but he doesn’t & then he’s smoking & we’re drinking
Coffee outside in winter and it’s open and black or maybe empty
My tongue shifts from side to side to keep my smile
Whole because we’re falling in love and I need
Teeth for love & I’m not a mother quite yet so he touches
My thigh & writes a song with his uke but just like that
He’s dead again and he’s sunk and fades and then
I’m falling apart from head to toe joint by joint
Driving frantically to his mother’s house
My shoulders loose nothing but palms on the wheel
My mouth bare & echoing & chain smoking
Practicing what I’ll say to her first.