home part II

today was going really well. i wrote an erotica piece that i am excited about (and that others are apparently excited about too...) i went to a nature preserve on the outskirts of the city, watched the madres de plaza de mayo march, ate a home cooked meal, met up with charlotte.

then i received an email from my father letting me know that my giagia is in the hospital back in the united states. she might not make it, and i am here and there's nothing i can do. she and i had a very complicated relationship. she did some pretty hurtful things to me over the years, but we also have a lot in common; our stubborness, our love for painting, our love for arguing. we butted heads. a lot. i love her so much, and i wrote a poem.


you would sit me on your knee,
outline my nose with your fingers and tell me
to be proud
of my Greek features,
nothing more
and
nothing less.

I remember your brushes combing my thick hair,
powdered-sugar island cookies,
spirit-stories,
your paintings and politics,
wine-tears, coughing
from church incense. you are
my gutsy Giagia
who uses the internet
and the word queer
like it’s a bad thing,
who tells it like it is,
New York City in the 1950’s, and

you always said
you felt like
a woman in her 20’s,
feet dangling off of eighth-floor windows,
women crossing their chests
below,
praying you don’t fall –
you took risks, then
and were a working woman
in love with a Greek man.
you feel the same now,
with wrinkled skin
and that short black hair.

but today
your words mean less
with a machine pumping your breath,
your chest stitched up,
and Jesus laying underneath
your bed.

and I wish
so badly
to be in New York with you,
one last time,
to let you know
we have more in common
than we think.



i hope she makes it.