The last time I talked
-Rain fell on your handsome features
Like dew on the leaves of your mind
Your skin – all 83 pounds of it-
Illuminated by moonlight and headlights
You never looked Mexican
Just tired
As you ripped out chunks of grass.
You were always on the skinnier side
The kind induced by
Malnutrition and lack of mothering
I don’t think I ever told you
But I think you knew…

I remember your sweatshirt a little too big
and your silly shoes- highlighters-
Colour, you said, appealed to the soul
You always loved to make people smile
I don’t think I’ve ever really smiled since

When they announced you, they called you
Jared – I always liked that name
But a million paper cranes
And a billion handfuls of grass
Won’t raise the cross you carried.
-Jesus never looked good on you.