Naming the Dead

Chocolate 
Starlight
Caramel 
Midnight

Honey
(oh, &)
Rain 

(she told 
me later 
when she’d 
remembered)

I’m relieved
she could at least
remember their names 

returning from last night’s
sleepover she’d 
never missed those 
once-beloved toy
horses I took to the
thrift store today

Upon my return my wife asked
what was wrong and I said 
Don’t mind me, I just got 
back from burying 
our little girl

& she reminded 
me that those 
horses & so 
many other things
had been locked 
in that old toy chest
for a year already

& if I thought
what I did today was 
sad, consider that coffin 
of her childhood 
just taking up
space

among the eye-
liner & posters of spiky-
haired singers & semi-literate 
notes to girlfriends seasoned 
with shorthand like “OMFG!” 
(swearing of course 
that the “F” doesn’t mean 
what I know it effing means)...

My wife was
very understanding &
right to tell
me that things aren’t
standing still & they
shouldn’t & I really
need to keep up

so I nodded, later
laughing alone that 
night when I
realized this came 
at a time when
I don’t drink like
I used to

not that I
need booze
to waste time
wondering if
those horses will get 
new names
should they find

new mistresses to
love them forever
or six months to a
year before 
moving 
on

so I lift my
two and only
beers to the 
little plastic 
horses

which have at
least a chance 
of a 
future 

as opposed to

that clever &
affectionate 
little child
whose lifeless
pieces

I dropped into 
the donations 
bin

long may you 
run

From the forthcoming collection Nymphomagic Electroshock and Other Middle-Aged Complaints.
Copyright © 2006, 2019 by Lawrence Roy Aiken.