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Two relatives I gain from a marriage |
that no longer exists pray for a sign |
from my father |
find one in a Wyoming |
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hot springs’ stranger who shows them |
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a chunk of meteorite |
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It’s from the Czech |
Republic |
which is where |
deep down |
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my own body is from or at least where |
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my soul landed |
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It’s a healing stone |
like the meteorite my father hung around |
his neck after his father hung it |
around his neck |
passed down patrilineally |
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so it will never hang around mine |
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When I say I am jealous |
someone asks |
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what doors do you keep open |
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for signs? |
There is no answer |
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to this question |
I don’t want |
a lingering ghost to tap me on the shoulder |
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and if my father came healed |
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I might not recognize him |
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Who is my father when he is not |
the addictions and what created them? |
I don’t know |
and so a sign would need to be |
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something unexpected |
anything |
I didn’t intend |
though I pretend to intend |
everything |
It’s not enough to see |
his name in the mail |
so maybe what |
I’m looking for is |
exactly this silence |
I already have |