My father’s hand
Holds mine tight.
Rubbing his thumb
Over my own.
As if that
Will bring her
Back.
As if that
Alone
Will stop the
Tears.
His eyes are down
But mine are on her
Face.
I cannot look away.
Rubbing his thumb
Over my own-
A magic lamp
To bring her back.
I will
Her broken heart
To mend,
Pumping blood
To warm her limbs-
Wait for sewn lips
To gasp apart
******* air ******* life
And all the while
The preacher talks,
He rubs my
Thumb
The magic lamp.