Robin

I remember you, perched
on my twelve-year-old lap
how I read one fish, two
fish, red fish blue,
as your father chose
the perfect granite stone;

I remember you, here
in your city, think of you
running hollow bones
over cold ivory,
quivering for his admiration;

Oh frail girl, your mother
was a ghost from the start
how could you know from the speckled
blue fragments that the world
was wide, that wings
grew strong and opened
in the wind

I remember you, in 4X6, chartreuse
dress and long-haired, hesitantly
smiling; the call that said you perched
upon the scaffolding, unfurled
your tiny wings
and failed to fly.