dad, in the months after you die,
cardinalscardinalscardinalscardinchris and i fight
cardinain the apartment, we fight on the street, we fight
in the carcardiand during the movecardfrom one apartment
cardinato another—dropping our dresser on the service ramp
carwhen he jolts and i jerk—
fight in busses, restaurants, subways.

carany problem from before—
cardinalscardinaintolerable, insurmountable.

i talk to our old pastor who says if i’m gonna keep on making
cardinaan ultimatumcari need to stand by itcarand leave.
so i stand on the corner of 108th and broadway
cardinalscardinknowing i will not, cannot leave. not then.

and chris gets off work that day and meets me on a bench
cardinalin riverside parkcardinaand we get nowhere.
cardinalscardinbut we go home that evening anyway.

we fight vicious enough one night in november, that the next day,
as we drive home for thanksgiving, we don’t talk
for eight and a half hours. he tolerates me singing loud to the radio.
i crycamost of the way.
cardinalscathis will be my first birthday,
camy first thanksgiving,carwithout you, dad.carand when we get to spottswood,
we stop at your grave for a while,
cardinalscardinalscardinalscardinalscardthen keep driving.
and when we get to roanoke, chris has planned the only surprise party
cardinalfor mecardinalsthat has ever surprised me,
cardinalscardinafilled, despite the holiday,carwith friends.

week after week,calegs intertwined,
carboth of us heavycarand very stillcaratop the covers.

he is awful to me that year.
cardinalscand i must be awful to him.
we don’t know how to grieve for you,
cardinalscardohow to help each other grieve for you,
cardinaland the people our age don’t know what to say.