241 or Back

You lie on the couch covered
in your mother’s blanket
protected against the
noise of the room.
I watch you from my
perch during my conversation
with your brother,
he’s been drinking again.
Your hair is splashed against
the arm, a gold net
on the blue upholstery.
It’s your family reunion
but you say you don’t
know any of them,
you say the kids can
have their scavenger hunt,
you’ll stay like marble.
I shepherded your nephew
around the yard,
down past the drainage pipe
until we found the last piece.
I came back as the sun hid
behind your painted fence, red,
and thought you’d have remained
in your makeshift home.
I don’t know if you lied
or I did, your mother’s
blanket was a corpse
on the floor.
I put it to my nose
and caught whatever dreams
you kept in your hair.
I only love you
at your arm’s length.