The Pool Was Empty
My son and I are standing on a street corner
in Brooklyn, his arms wrap around my waist,
his face is buried in the belly part of my green sundress.
He is sobbing loudly. Everyone is looking at us.
He cannot make the hard, hard crying stop.
I can’t either. Between his hyperventilating gasps
he shouts: This is the worst day of my life!… Read the rest