"When's my mommy coming back?"
"Your mom's gone?" I asked.
"Well, where'd she go?"
"I cannot tell.
I do not know."
I dammed my tears and thought a while;
I could not make my own this child,
But I did have a friend who'd lost a son
And seldom left the house since it was done.
Perhaps the holes they feel inside battered souls
Might be mended with a little labor.
Maybe they can be each other's saviors.
But they can't-- not right now,
Unaware as each is of the other's existence.
No kindnesses shall come to pass
Unless I have the stones to call my friend and ask.
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