The Eyjafjallajökull volcano under the Eyjafjalla glacier in Iceland erupted for the second time in less than a month, melting ice, and shooting smoke and steam from vaporized snow into the air
unrecorded on geography’s grid
disguised in invisibility
feeling and unfelt—
I hid warming myself under a coat of ice
flame
small as unimaginable
big as impulse
dormant as wintering seed
tucked inside frozen lining
sheltered and safe
gloved and hooded
I waited
rings Jean-Paul’s mother’s neck,
anyone standing behind her
stands behind
She packed crayons and pencils
(he would sketch the boat),
pinned to his shirt
the address of her uncle
and later in her duffel brought him
his left-behind heart
So he arrived twice—
is still arriving
He runs, seesaws, climbs a tree
in Kreyol daydreams
when the teacher speaks English
Arithmetic is easy: subtraction,
take away
The day he threw the guinea pig
was after recess—
an inadvertent elbow, a misunderstood
remark, a flashback, a scent
an oncoming cold
or that headache