Shirley Jackson

I met you in seventh grade

I can smell the pages

I still use them to dry my tears

You understand my loss

I’ll see you in your secret spaces

I can’t mend your heart

But can meet it’s broken places

I don’t know what’s beyond

The depth of your pond

Or what it keeps afloat

The little girl I was

Makes you a fried cheese sandwich

Without fuss

Buries my treasures

Like baby teeth

If there’s a another realm

We will find each other

I won’t speculate

On the existence

Of soul

I’ll just put this light on

Knowing you make mine whole

I can’t know who you are

But I’m lost –

In your cup full of stars

Buy this book.

After that, buy mine.