Diamonds Raining

It’s past time
when I can call tonight,
past the rules that let
me hear you carp about the same
old grilled cheese and other
lunch lady fare –

the bane of your teen
wisdom, the boredom
slabs you have to eat
every day waiting –

adults buzzing
in your distant hive, trying
to make honey out of
nightmares and betrayal.

You gone so long,
long as your legs
grew like trees but never

able to outrun the pain,
trapped in silent lies,
wrapped in dead fish smells
passing for family.

Now the sound of your voice
sounds like diamonds raining

and we get to keep them
all and run to the sea

laughing, washing away
all the stink, where
everything tastes great and

you get to say no, where
what you know is
to be a child.