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So every day, I help him come

And in the s, alk slowly underneath the lovely trees, with my arm wrapped about his waist

“I’m sorry I can’t hold you”

“I’m sorry my husband shot you”

It’s the first tis him pain, and we’re forced back inside I tease his scalp withthem I think somehow it must distract froe lips, and he whispers, “Turn around”

I do, and there’s a strange man at the door

“Who is that?”

He smiles

It’s the kiln he had his father promise me when he called Tristan to invite me here

Declan watches ether stretch into weeks His left arers into ether, eat food a truck delivers, and tuck in close at night

Some weekends, his father visits, and we’ll drive down to Seattle Sailor’s grown so very lean, but e go into the city, he eats After so less, we roa ourselves

It’s a slow road, with his shoulders Dutifully, with the discipline of a teetotaler, he cuts thephysically, but he still has his Laurent nightht and breathes into my hair

“You’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel better At rehab, they say it can’t be someone else But I don’t kno to do it any other way”

Twenty-Two

Declan