it’s a cliche that everyone has a crazy uncle
\nand maybe it’s true; it was for us.
\nmy crazy uncle was the uncle we knew best
\nand who we adored more than all the others.
\nhe held sleepovers for me and my siblings
\nin the apartment (whose rent my parents paid)
\nand watched walker: texas ranger too late into the night
\nand agreed that yes chuck norris was hot<\/p>\n
some things have changed.<\/p>\n
there are–
\ni will not call them unforgivable. i shall not call them sins; they weren’t.
\nthere were fuck-ups that hurt my family but not me.
\nthe apartment he abandoned without warning
\n(our family he abandoned without warning)
\n(twice)
\nthe time he tried to kill himself, which–
\nfor whom is that forgiveness owed; to whom is that an offense? <\/p>\n
mine is a small complaint but it is one that
\ni have not laid to rest. <\/p>\n
(i was not there when his body was laid to rest either.
\ni visited his grave the year after
\nwith my sister and my mother and her sisters;
\nmy father and uncles an uneasy half-circle around us.)<\/p>\n
perhaps this poem is the time. <\/p>\n
: it’s okay that you promised you would dance with me at my bat-mitzvah but both of us circulated through the party it’s okay that you promised me a dance it’s okay, younger-me, that you did not ask, it’s okay, the uncle i had who maybe is<\/em> like everyone’s crazy uncle: our out-of-town family came for the bat mitzvah. if i could make my hurt into a precious thing i can take the promise and keep that; it’s a cliche that everyone has a crazy uncle and maybe it’s true; it was for us. my crazy uncle was the uncle we knew best and who we adored more than all the others. he held sleepovers for me and my siblings in the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1532,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[3597,3442,680,1173,15],"class_list":["post-73944","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","tag-2020halfmarathon","tag-2020poetrymarathon","tag-poetrymarathon","tag-half-marathon","tag-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73944","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1532"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=73944"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73944\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":74091,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/73944\/revisions\/74091"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=73944"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=73944"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=73944"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nand didn’t.
\nit was a precious promise
\nand i think–i think if you had known it was so precious–
\ni think if i<\/em> had known how precious it was, and reminded you–
\nyou would have danced with me. <\/p>\n
\nlike smiles and plates of appetizers
\nin the swirling crowd of middle school friends
\nand the two sides of our out-of-town family who had never come together to meet,
\nwith my mother and father happily, insistently, politically out of wedlock<\/p>\n
\nand that i thought i would feel like a princess
\n(more because of the spotlight of your attention
\nthan the way you would have made me whirl across the floor).<\/p>\n
\nit’s okay, younger-me, that you nursed your hurt and pride
\ninstead of your bravery. <\/p>\n
\nthe kind who do their best and take what pills they can and
\nlive their lives with those they love until it hurts too much;
\nit’s okay that you danced with so many people but not me.<\/p>\n
\nyou were already there.
\nyour leaving hurt worse than theirs did
\n(and yes: many times in many ways).<\/p>\n
\ni would make it a snow globe.
\ni would shake it until the two figures dancing
\nwere surrounded by glitter (which we spent so long cleaning up)
\nand twirling slowly in a prescribed circle (the dance didn’t have to be good)<\/p>\n
\ni can take the memory i wish i had, and hold it;
\ni can say: he wanted to dance with me at my bat mitzvah,
\nhe loved me; he thought i was special, too.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"