as we laughed our way from

Friday afternoon into Friday night and

a whole lot of weekends too.

But how’d it get to be Used to Be?

Wasn’t even a long time ago.

Just feels like that.

Just. Feels. Like. That.

Bird

Yesterday, I saw the reddest cardinal ever.

Sitting in the oak tree we named Maple.

Watching me.

And it was such a perfect, perfect moment.

Then the bird blinked once, spread its wings,

flew away.

As though it was saying ZJ, remember this.

As though it was saying Remember me.

When It Feels like the Whole World Is Screaming

The cops came to our house last night

because somebody complained

about my daddy.

I don’t know who, though.

Sometimes it feels like the whole world is screaming.

Last night my daddy’s head was hurting

and nothing was helping it.

Not pills.

Not ice.

Not my mom making everything quiet in the house

and turning the lights down low.

So my mom said to my dad

Just lie down and close your eyes.

She patted their bed with her hand

while I stood in their doorway.

Come on, Zachariah, Mom said.

Do it for me and ZJ.

Just rest awhile.

But my daddy started yelling again, saying

It hurts so bad. Saying

I don’t know where I am anymore.

You’re home, Zachariah.

But my daddy ran downstairs

and outside.

And down the street.

Still holding his head.

Still yelling

It hurts so bad.

I hid under the dining room table, put my fingers

inside my ears.

But the noise snuck past my hands.

And then there were sirens.

And then there were two cops

bringing my daddy back.

You were the best tight end they ever had, one cop said.

Better than— And then the other cop named another guy.

That’s for sure, the first cop said.

But my daddy didn’t say anything. He had stopped screaming.

Just lay down on the couch and closed his eyes.

I miss you on the field, the first cop said.

Game feels different without you in it.

Thank you, my mom said, walking the policemen back to our door

before they could ask

what everybody asks.

If my daddy could sign a piece of paper

or their jackets

or their ball.

I stayed under the table

listening to my daddy’s voice become

a soft moan

that floated past me like

it was a song he was singing.

But in the place where the music should have been

it was just lots and lots of pain.

I wanted to believe it was how the singers did it.

But knew it wasn’t.

I fell asleep beneath the table

and Mama found me there

at dawn.

Part 2

The Ever After

Visit

There’s a doctor in Philadelphia that the doctors

in New York

and New Jersey recommended

sending Daddy to.

They say it has something to do with his brain.

Say maybe