8 years old once

for lack of beds, I slept next to him
I listened to him whisper to himself

happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday
dear Jalen
happy birthday to me

I thought about summer camps, swimming pools, and superheroes
I thought about him and how he waited all day for a party and me

to show up with the presents my sister had promised her son
to show up with a rite of passage in the form of an orange bicycle

that was last spring, and then winter came
when I hid his presents under my small sink

Jolly old Saint Nicholas, lean your ear this way, don't you tell
a single soul
what I'm going to say

the next day he cried at my kitchen table while I tried to explain
why he should wait and make his gingerbread house with his mother

the next month someone pawned a present I had bought him
and I explained to myself the difference between money and love

and I felt sick, and I felt noble at once
a Romeo holding an empty vile and Juliet

ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes
ashes
we all fall down

as April ended this year my nephew turned eight
and I spent the day planning an escape for everyone

I thought about how he laughed at his own jokes
and how I cried when I first heard about him

and I prayed, please let him be a good man
over and over and over and over again