If my bones
were robust but hollow
I’d lift my arms up and glide into my memory
and it would feel like the first time
that my limbs swam underwater.
My hips and ankles colliding gently,
a clumsy dance, exhilarating as my heart raced
wherever, however, I’d go find us
so that at 5 years of time and space
the distance between your present and our past
doesn’t leave me empty and wingless and breathless.
Like the day my mother asked me to pack up
to pack up my entire 13 year old life
into plastic bags and cardboard boxes.
I’d wish the wind could carry my whispers into her ears
in that moment she looked at the world with adolescent eyes
beginning to understand life isn’t always fair–
but wait a moment,
you’ll learn to breathe through healthier lungs
you’ll learn to pick up the pieces instead of packing up.
Don’t you ever forget to pick up the memories
even the ones you remembered seated 7 feet high.