Poetry: Valentine for Zephyr, Age 12

Valen­tine for Zephyr, Age 12
–Francette Cerulli
From The Spir­its Need to Eat

The night before valen­tines are due,
I take you to the movie about Vincent
whose paint­ings you love. Too late
I real­ize it’s a mis­take. You knew about his ear
and you know the def­i­n­i­tion of prostitute,
but nei­ther one of us was ready
to see him cut him­self until he bled,
see him in the brothel
with his rot­ten teeth and his real women.

On the way home in the star­ry night we hold hands,
won­der what his par­ents must have been like,
what cru­el­ty may have hap­pened to him,
and you show me the belt of Orion,
clean and shin­ing and always in place.

Remem­ber this for­ev­er, then:
I can­not imag­ine not lov­ing you,
even when this body is gone.

So if I ever die, look up into the dark
and find me hun­dreds of times there,
each place you can faint­ly imag­ine a line
trac­ing the shape of a valentine.