Not books this time. I felt ready to share this poem properly.
The summer of my thirteenth year
Was mostly hospitals.
Some series of events like miniscule knots
Turning time till the boat hit him.
It tried to take his surgeon’s arm
and nearly took his life
but the same knotted thread that
the world off its tracks
let us bring him back to port.
I say “us”, but that’s a simplification.
Truth is I was asleep
when his blood was mixing with the Mediterranean.
You’d think love would be strong enough
to shudder the web we share
but he’d already been to the brink and back
by the time I heard.