I wrote you a letter
yesterday, while the sun slid down,
our son squalling in his sheets.
I wrote, I filled three sheets
word by word, letter by letter
before I turned the lights down
before I sang him down to sleep, and down
came the rain in rivers and in sheets.
This much is yours: only this rain-stained letter.
I wrote you this letter, wrote down his name, filled these sheets with farewells.