Dear Ava.

I hope

This

Finds

You well and

The kids

And Jack

Are safe

And happy

And set

To swimming

In the beautifully

Blue pool.

The picture

Was lovely.

It looks

Like a long

Shard of glass

And that bird

Reflected,

Hovering up high

Reminded me of the one

That swooped

And ate your

Newborn butterflies

That hatched

From that kit

I bought you.

I should have

Paid more attention

But butterflies

Are a nasty thing

To own.

How’s the cat

And that gerbil

That I’m always

Afraid the cat

Will eat?

Is Lucille

Still eating

Her fingernails

Like you always used

To do and might still?

Funny, the dedication

taken

To shredding

And imbibing ourselves.

I’m well.

The postman

Asked the other

Day

About your father

And I said, “Still dead,”

But no smile on his face.

What a waste because

He looks a little

Like

Dicaprio in Gatsby

And a smile

Would do him good.

Me, too, I guess.

But not to get down

And out.

Have to keep the spirits

Up.

Have to keep on keeping on.

Sometimes, I talk to God.

And dare him to listen.

I have to get on

Now,

And I know

You’re busy with the

Glass shard pool

And Jack and the kids

And all the minutes

That feel

Like hours

Until your glass has

Spilled

And all you see

Is your damp

Eye hovering

From

above.