they nailed her 
fur coat to the packinghouse wall

my grandma 
was the only one who talked 
to the new girl with aspirations 
you sit here next to me
they put her on the sorting 
line, where she stayed for forty years
are the number of angels
who follow you
and help you through your life
in direct relation
to the number of people
who you’ve made to love you?

i’m an apple bobbing in northern water
cloud jesus hanging on sistine sky 
my catholic girlfriend
says: he’s checking up on you
Helen also would have said it was him
or an angel

clasped and believing 
hands knotted from grasping 
a million cold spheres 
jewels she held and let go

tightly, lovingly

years later

I’m in my car yelling
at a guy in his twenties, who is 
laughing at me

do you miss life?
have my dreams floated through you
have they caught in your hair? 

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