Lying on our bed together,
Leaning against our kitchen counter together,
Standing here together in a parking lot with a bus
Headed to boot camp headed to a plane headed
To a country news stories are made of. And you.
You say to me then, I wouldn’t be gone forever.
And I say promise, not because it is possible but
Because it isn’t, because that is what you do,
When your husband goes to war. And now.
Now all I can think about is you and what if,
If I make my body a tarmac, a soft landing,
If I make my feet a compass, navigational pull,
If I make my hair a map, each strand a direction
Leading the way, back to the root, back to the scalp,
The scalp of me and this family, will you?
Will you come back?