The Tooth Fairy I believed more
than the jealousy I felt, at age eight
when my nemesis was blessed for teeth.
My mockingbird sang, its voice without weight.
I hid mine three years for a miracle
too grand, the hope of hope could not preserve.
My mockingbird sang, its feathers withered.
Santa Claus was a phoney man and our
house he never showed, though my brothers
believed in the smiling white beard.
My mockingbird chirped, its wings were sheared.
I sewed stockings and filled them with joy,
may their tunes linger longer than mine.
My mockingbird stood, its voice declined.
I was twelve when granny left us,
and twelve when father’s lies were found.
Mother cried herself to sleep, and
my nightmares became my dreams.
To an omnipotent Lord, I prayed be
good for the good. That night
my mockingbird was gone, so I understood.
In the doomed fall of her flight, she never came back
and in her place was the memory of song.
I am a faded voice of what once had been,
but a stronger frame built on vestige.
My mockingbird left a tune for eternity,
and in all I do she still sings in me.