I stood looking down at my shoes slick black,
laces up tight. Creased in the middle, from head to toe.
Mama was pushing and poking
Making me fit real good.

New clothes, the gift that left me walking in pride.
Sharp on the edges, real keen down the boulevard
to the cathedral for my Grandma's funeral.
The place was packed with people.

Holding on tight was real easy, until I saw tears
on Mama's cheeks while she was praying.
I held her tighter and knew at the end of every rope
sometimes praying is all what's left to do.

Hollowed out, empty even.
The sound of a whisper echoes,
in the space of an empty apartment.
When Mama gave the key to the Super.

Standing by the car, looking at the towering arches
of the cathedral. Remembering the loud sound
the switch made when Mama turned off the lights
The space closed in on me, I felt Mopped into a corner
stranded, just looking down the boulevard.

From the back of that old fifty eight Buick
the city lights slowly disappeared.
I turned my attention to Nat King Cole.
Singing on the radio singing me down.
I drifted in and out, listening to Mona Lisa
watching Mama's mouth move to the words.

Mama shook me in the sound of crickets
chirping through the blackest night.
In the smell of fresh cut grass, she opened the door
to the red brick house on Floral Park Drive.

"It's all ours sweetie. Your grandmother
wanted you to have a backyard."
She squinched up her nose and smiled.

Through cat frame glasses, she filled the night
with the most comforting blue.
Pulling myself up on the couch
I whispered "Good night Mona Lisa."

The quiet left me wide open in a place
without a single street lamp.
rattling wind chimes, screen door banging
Stick horse shadows dripped off the wall.
The nights were long
like trying to play with pearl marbles.

Remembering Ms. Bidelli and all her cats
Hanging out on the stoop.
The smell of the bagel shop on the corner.
The winding down sound a city makes
through the buzz of a street lamp.
Most of all I missed the seventh street Cathedral.

I remember when the men from the Army
came to talk to Mama. She told me
Daddy wasn't coming home.
He was in heaven with Jesus.

We walked to the cathedral that night
Mama lit a candle then pulled me close.
Down on her knees, she held me and cried
my shirt soaking wet.

I would run down the boulevard
to the cathedral talking to God and Dad.
Telling them the world events, through my eyes.
Walking to the Cathedral was coming home.

I pleaded to go back. But Mama said it's too far.
I need to talk to Dad; I can't lose him again.
She pulled me close, down on her knees and cried with me
trying real hard to love me through it.

She took me down the road in the old Buick
When the car stopped, I looked up
at the biggest bell, I ever saw. Standing
above the top of the sunrise., the huge church
opened up through the glint of my tired eyes.

We walked in and Mama lit a candle.
She pulled me close down on her knees.
She brushed hair from my eyes and softly
said, "speak to your Daddy sweetie."