& so we walk hand in hand, again
& I am crouched on the street
tying my father’s sneakers
& his hair is growing in
grey and soft on the back of his neck
they haven’t shaved it
since the treatment stopped
& it strikes me that this
is like a book I read a long time ago
where everyone who dies
lives together on an island
ages backwards into babies
gets sent back to earth
except he hasn’t died yet
& he’s not on an island
he’s here with me
& he stands up
& he reaches for my hand

Two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor
my parents move through the questions and I perch on the end of the couch
peering over their shoulders, sea or forest, snowy owl or black cat, waiting to see
if we will end up in the same house, to see if I am like them, if I will be capable
of creating the same kind of childhood I had, warm and loud, constantly bubbling over
and then they reach it, Which trait are you most proud of?
and I am silently guessing, intelligence, imagination, originality
and without hesitation they both choose
Kindness
and I think, of course
and I feel it stir, this sleepy all-encompassing kindness
lovingly watered, blooming within me, bright, delicate
mine to carry on

Over at Nini’s Hoarding a Pack of Powdered Donuts
a spool of rusted copper wire sits, a tiara
on my little brother’s head

he takes a fist full of boiled peanuts
brown juice swelling under his fingernails
regally goes to work sucking out the pale meat

the grass is already littered with cracked shells
little ant homes I am furnishing with sheets of grass

I announce it is my turn to be queen, crown myself
lick the salt from my fingers
replace it with the last sugary crumbs from the Hostess bag

inside Nini has the TV on, loud
lying on the corduroy recliner with her legs stretched out

I fixate for a second, on the thick blue veins
sagging ankles

then walk over and climb in next to her
cozy into her hip, peer up to see
if she will tell me I should be watching Agost

she is peacefully breathing
eyelids fluttering like little butterflies, I pet her hair
grab two juice boxes from the fridge

punch the plastic straws through before I present one to my brother
we turn on the hose
take turns running through it, happy-screaming

the wire rests forgotten in the driveway, but still
we are royal in our dripping t-shirts, anointed

unabashed when our parents’ car rumbles over the gravel
and brings us, unceremoniously
into their view