we went to see freewilly in the theater
and jonathan was
so sick he turned yellow
we left, grandpa & gramma took
him to the hospital.
his eyes rolled back in
his 5 year old head
& i, not fully understanding,
laughed when gramma asked
"what's my name"
& he said, "cookie"
& i said i think he wants
a cookie
where he lay
on the brownstriped couch
where i always explored the lines
when i lay there on sick
afternoons
following the blueprints of
slave ships & coal mines
i remember running alongside
the car they took him in
in the navy-blue-stained air
of twilight
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