A Find

Cleaning out her room the next
Afternoon, we locate the suspects
We already knew about: 75 empties
In the dresser and under a blanket
Near her bed; 10 vicodin bottles
Among the dust bunnies underneath.

Then we get a surprise: we move
The bureau beneath the window,
The one alongside the derelict
Air conditioner, and with a thump,
A book that had been jammed back there
Slips to the floor. I pick it up.

Old Friends and Lasting Favorites,
The Golden Treasury of Children’s
Literature, 1961, Volume Four.
She was 47 when she died. What
Use would she have had for the likes
Of Rapunzel, Puss in Boots, Aladdin?

Oh yes, I knew those books all right.
Mother bought them for us when we
Were kids ourselves; they’d stood
On the bookshelf in the dining room
For 40 years. How did that one
Get back here? Then I remember.

Ricky is 19 now, but was always
Tia Lynne’s favorite. “Binky,” she
Called him when he was newborn.
Later, sometimes as a weekend
Treat, he’d be allowed to stay
Overnight out in the granny flat

As his aunt’s guest. Cartoons, pizza,
And then, when it was time for bed,
Time to tuck him in on the couch,
Before going off herself to curl up
With a thick-glassed jug of E & J,
No doubt, yes, she’d read him a story.

Clearly, the book had somehow slipped
Behind that dresser and been forgotten
For ten years at least, probably more.
Thanksgiving: at the dinner table
I make a slip and mention her name.
Ricky goes into the kitchen to cry.

This is the price we pay for being
Old friends and lasting favorites:
Not hungry, I stand here hugging Ricky,
One of the unlucky family members
Shocked in the final, ironic moment
Of the one about the boy with the long name.