wishing well

you don’t know the sound of your own bells. it gets lost in the echoes you swallowed trying to keep the peace between your mother & father. but i ate the dandelion & there was nothing left for you to wish upon. so you sought out the soil, dug deeper than a grave, until you hit water. you made the bricks from clay, baked them under a wilting sun, & built the well all by yourself. just to make a wish. a wish for me, a girl made of wishes uncome true. a wasted wish. but your own well to keep pulling wishes from. it’s yours. it’s yours. i’m yours. i’m trying to give you back the dandelion, but you keep giving me pennies to share your well & i hum ode to joy – an ode to you. the envelopes are stacked in piles & sorted by color. all that you tuck in them are birthday cards & thank you notes. i seal them for you & you take my hand to the mailbox – because every stroll counts. no one is keeping score, but everything adds up. there’s honey on the door knob, on the bed frame, on the shower curtain. the bees are weeping because the flutter of their wings laid us down to sleep & they miss us. how gentle it is, how pure. but we will see them in the morning once the buzz has worn off. you pluck a bud from the japanese honeysuckle bush & lay it on my tongue like you’d lay a baby in a bassinet. it melts to butter & we laugh in front of the lilac petals. she will know you still. & you brush a tear from my cheek, my palm tiny in yours. it’s only a half smile, but it’s enough for you to call down the eagles to raise me again. a ripened strawberry in your cheeks. & i know. i know. i know. through the parting clouds & in the roar of the rain. i will know. i will know. i will know. my penny never hit the bottom.