ma

[Author's Note: This poem was inspired by my favorite line in the novel On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: I miss you more than I remember you.]

isn’t it funny, ma

how pressing a button 

has become my idea of courage?

i hear a voice—is it yours?

—or grandma’s?—

hours have turned into

days that have turned into weeks since 

the last time we spoke

but i still hear you, 

or i try to.

if i can survive a war, little one,

you can survive anything.

but i’m not as strong as you think, ma

i haven’t grown up

i’ve broken down

and there’s no way your relentless

scrubbing of tiger balm on my skin

could heal me now

but time will fix me, right?

maybe, 

not really,

    not at all.

—time is just an artist, 

angry at its fresh painting,

smudging and smearing until everything

is a blur and no one can remember what 

the canvas looked like, in the first place

but what else do i have, ma,

other than time? 

i convince myself that time is the ointment that will work.

because time means forgetting

and forgetting means not having to think

about anything at all

forgetting means you don’t have to remember

forgetting means to not remember

and that’s the only way that everything can become nothing

but forgetting also means there’s more empty space

in a heart, 

in a head,

in a house.

forgetting means there’s more the heart misses

i hold my phone in my hand

and swallow.

what do i say to you?

how can i ask

how are you? 

when what i really want to know is

are you okay?

am i okay? 

are we okay?

are we happy? 

i don’t know how you’ll answer my questions

i don’t know if you’ll answer at all

but i do know what will happen the second

i press a grey button and you press a green one

like always, 

you’ll joke

son, did you miss me?

i’ll nod

but what i really mean is

of course i missed you, ma

i still miss you

i miss you more than i remember you