Jarrett Moseley

The Inheritance

Hours we spent

planting orchids on the tree.

I cared nothing.

I cared for nothing

but you.

Now, in June

on a park bench in a different city,

I push a pin tack

deeper into my thumb

to remember.

Steady breath.

Everyday I move

between wanting

to apologize

and wanting to scream

for this:

I could not understand

how you felt

until you made me

feel the same way.

You handed me

a plastic skull

you had carried around

your entire life.

Then you made it real.

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