My Mockingbird's Song

The Tooth Fairy I believed more

than the jealousy I felt, at age eight 

when my nemesis was blessed for teeth. 

My mockingbird sang, its voice without weight. 

I hid mine three years for a miracle 

too grand, the hope of hope could not preserve. 

My mockingbird sang, its feathers withered. 

Santa Claus was a phoney man and our 

house he never showed, though my brothers 

believed in the smiling white beard. 

My mockingbird chirped, its wings were sheared.

I sewed stockings and filled them with joy, 

may their tunes linger longer than mine. 

My mockingbird stood, its voice declined. 

I was twelve when granny left us,

and twelve when father’s lies were found.  

Mother cried herself to sleep, and

my nightmares became my dreams.  

To an omnipotent Lord, I prayed be

good for the good. That night  

my mockingbird was gone, so I understood. 

In the doomed fall of her flight, she never came back

and in her place was the memory of song. 

I am a faded voice of what once had been,

but a stronger frame built on vestige. 

My mockingbird left a tune for eternity,

and in all I do she still sings in me.