Boy from Aleppo

Once in Maine,
My sister and I went
Out with our grandfather
And covered ourselves in mud.

There is a picture of the three
Of us, skin showing only
Around the eyes and in
Water-streaks on our legs.
My grandfather is smiling.
My sister, flat mouthed, is proud,
And stands like pride.
I forget what my face showed
But I smile now, at my forgetting.

This morning, I opened
Facebook. I saw a picture of a boy,
Bloody and dusted from rubble,
And my heart hit the front
Of my chest and stayed a moment
Too long, like holding the door
For someone just too far away.

I wonder what it must be like
For your similes to come from
Poison, fire, rubble.

in my room now

i climbed into bed carefully
so as not to disturb the sheets
tonight

i squeezed my toothpaste very gently
onto the brush
tonight

i biked home slowly
and thanked every car who let me by

i listened to bud play piano
and treated my well worn backpack
like a newborn

i walked to the bikeshare
and felt the actual breeze
between my fingers

i left my love’s apartment very gently
for she felt like plastic bones
tonight