Gingy: a poem

we met you in red writing,

miss you in each stroller,

love you in every balloon.

who gets to be the poster children 

of callous collateral; an unthinkable

plucking of kumquats, unripe orchids 

lean to you, Boys. a smile 

beams through concave of

baby teeth and gums

that don’t know sweetness,

tangerines and calcite eyes,

and a promise,

those marigold-colored glasses 

never broke. 

save us at street corners,

spit in the hands of evil,

teach us the color of hope.

there is no heaven or hell,

but i know i know i know

you are raised in sunrise

and cradled in sunset, Boys, 

in mural and mirage, 

in video and valor, 

in gingerly kisses of life,

may your memory be a blessing.

may your memory be brought to every home.