Our Son after the Q Bar – Julie Maclean

First there was the letter
found in the sports bag
on the bathroom floor
           dumped like a wet towel
          or a broken animal
I warned your
father not to read it
Then the photo
canary yellow cargo pants
a red tank top shining
like the nose of your birthday clown
remember, or the eyes of someone young with a
bad prognosis   the gleam of your
biceps I imagine in the glitter ball
your buffed twin in the mirror
Next morning we found you,
sweet Vengaboy, bounced off the
Milky way, words drumming the space
Boom Boom Boom