I wanted to plop backwards in the

snow and wave my arms and legs

up and down, making a snow angel

​

next to you. I wanted to read Where the Wild Things Are

with a flashlight under a blanket fort with

you. To run with you through a

​

meadow, picking every dandelion,

blowing seeds in the wind.

I wanted to jump the waves, holding

​

your hand, while we looked for sand

dollars together. Instead, there was

blood, and somebody must have yanked

​

the bones from my body because I

crumpled into a lifeless heap of flesh on

the linoleum floor. I only hope

​

to meet you one day. I swear

I smell baby powder.

And a friend left flowers on the porch.

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