For the hundredth time, I am writing
about my stepdad. A 2,000-word essay,
a cash prize worth half our mortgage.
In me, yearnings crave a nod.
Like telling those native English speakers
who demanded “Get me somebody who can speak English!”
back when I was Helena in ‘06, I am the goddess
of language in this house.
Show the loves I lost
there are still things I win at.
Tell my stepdad that there is enough bittersweetness
in 30 years to cover in 2,000 words.
Describe his light until the earth’s bowl brims
with my words that they reach the sky.
Prove that my eight-year-old grief is ripe for a prize.
I want him to shake my hand
and say, You win, alright.
Your words reached me.
This poem was first published in Rejection Letters on February 24, 2023.
