Patience

You waited and when he came he said, “I’m going back,” like there wasn’t choice and his parents said “He chose, you know,” and you asked him, “Why? Your son’s here now,” and he replied, “They need me Joanie. More than you,” and his words were a high school taunt slipping past your underlined skirt: more than you more than you more than your measurements, milestones, brains, babies, recipes, biceps and work. More.

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