Elizabeth Burke

The raindrops fall like snowflakes
And I come home to our apartment
Where one day maybe you will say to me
You want a baby.
I open the mail.  
Your grandmother has sent me a documentary
About the hazards of addiction
From the journalist she gave 5 million dollars to.
My father calls.
I can barely hear his skinny voice.
I think of him at the end of the line
In his dress and makeup on the streets.
I never know where he is.
I love you, we say and we do.
When he lost the house.
When I missed my grandmother's funeral
Because I was in detox.
He says he has to go.
I go to write a thank you note to your grandmother in Switzerland
Mentioning especially how insightful the journalist was.
Then I watch it rain like rain.