"Transfusion"
Before she left she
placed everything she
would ever say in balloons.
I would sometimes take a pin and
hear there are
leftovers in the fridge seep out
in a slow leak (as her breath, still warm,
masked mine),
or I'd use a fork and pop a balloon and
WALK THE DOGS TWICE A DAY
would ring in my ears for hours.
And when she returned,
because no air was left inside of her,
she would reach up
and puncture a balloon in order
to speak to us, and
one night I found my son, looking guilty
under his bed, surrounded
by piles of deflated rubber.
And he opened his mouth,
and I never heard
his voice again.
In a Perfect Romance."
