Who knows when a poem exists?
When it falls into our lap with touches
Sweet Edward stretching and opening his pizza box
Arms over his head
I enter asking: Are you tired?
Just needed a stretch.
I’m not tired at all.
This young body just needed to move.
We talked...I talked.
He told me he was out of state.
Where?...Wyoming.
His fathers illness brought him home.
Death happens, he whispered.
Not much of a note.
I felt my own grief.
Wondering as I thought about fixing him;
How could I fix myself.
We hugged that was fixing enough
A frozen space warmed by love
Also a slice of pizza.
Where are you now Sweet Edward
A story will come!
