standing on the deck, looking up at the sky.

Are you counting stars? I asked.

No, she said. I’m looking for God.

If anyone has any answers, I guess God would.

ZJ, can you hear me?!

I jump in my seat, look toward the front of the room,

where my teacher is staring at me.

Welcome back from the World of Daydreams, she says.

So glad to have you with us.

Says Those fractions up on the board

aren’t going anywhere—they’re just waiting for you to

divide them.

Middle of the Night

Down the hall I can hear my daddy moaning, saying

My head. My head, Lisa. It hurts so bad. Hurts

so bad.

Then hear my mother going downstairs.

I get out of bed, tiptoe down behind her,

the house cold and me

in just pajamas and no robe.

The kitchen tile freezing my feet.

Is Daddy gonna be okay? I ask,

and my mama jumps, says

ZJ! You scared me into next week.

Look at me standing there in Tuesday.

Stop playing, Mama, but like always, she makes me smile

a little.

Is he?

Mama turns back to the sink, fills the kettle with water,

puts it on the stove.

Of course, she says.

Your dad’s going to be fine.

But she doesn’t look at me. Then she does,

and reaches to hug me.

I don’t know, ZJ. I really don’t.

I whisper into her arm I’m scared.

Me too, she whispers back, then kisses the top of my head.

We stay like that.

Upstairs my daddy moans and moans.

And soon the teakettle joins him.

And Then There’s the Morning

There’s a song I wrote that starts that way.

It goes,

And then there’s the morning

when my cereal’s cold

and the new day feels old

and I’m missing my stuffed animals

because I’m too big, I’m told.

And then there’s the morning

where my shoes feel too small

but seems I’ll never get tall

want to run away from it all.

And then there’s the morning.

And then there’s the morning.

After I sing And then there’s the morning the final time

I play a riff on my guitar, kinda slow, blues—like

I’m real deep in thought around all the things

I’m worrying about.

And then there’s the morning

when the sun comes out again

I have boys I call friends

know the bad times will one day end.

Can’t wait for that morning.

I can’t wait . . .

for that morning.

Prayer

Right after I come into the house, I take off my shoes,

walk into the kitchen for a glass of milk

and a candy bar. I hear

Daddy’s bare feet on the stairs,

walking right on by without even asking

How was your day, little man?

Hear his bedroom door slam.