(fragment)

back home, the wind is spreading chemical flames,
twenty miles charred, more as dad drives home from work.
don't take the parkway, it's a disaster coming.

but i am far away, full of fancies that keep me
distant. turned away, i say no to the grainy image
on my screen. hello mom, how are you today?
i say no, i say nothing, i call out the imaginary names
before i catch myself, take myself out
of the blinding sweetness of strangers, put myself to bed.

all i can say is the prayer of the damned:
i am sorry, so sorry
still, years later.
forgive me, forgive me. forgive me.

*written as the ending of the poem that would later, after edits, become "meditation". the poem was originally titled "on unpacking after a long trip".