by sue wolf

Group home math.

There you stand.
A teeny tiny Viola Davis.
Elegant.
7
So much food trauma
neglect and starvation.
You look like 5.
Pigtails 4.

In the group home since 6.
Nourishment still has not given u enough reason to talk.

We walk hand in hand around Hollywood … a desert of costumed children.
Which was all right with you.

Refused all costumes, because why cover up who we are …
when invisible is what we are.

We walk baked gently in the afternoon warmth. Long El Ay blocks.

We are done after 3 pieces of candy make hollow sounds in our orange plastic jack o lantern.
It was really our hand in hand that was the sweet treat for both of us.
Mine like a lion’s paw and yours like a butterfly.

At the picnic table in the group home, you divvy up the spoils of Halloween.
2 candies for me.
1 for you.

Your generosity makes me weep today … 21 years later.

The next day you will be gone.
Swallowed by the system.

Who looks for you.
None.