Mother, I have dreamt you
as artist, musician,
sculptor, poet, dancer,
as one who arts often
across time and distance,
as artists tend to do,
and once as the evil
banker drawing interest,
and you chose to leave me
with this empty ledger:
NEW YORK STATE DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH
ADOPTION AND MEDICAL INFORMATION REGISTRY
NON-IDENTIFYING INFORMATION REPORT
Item Mother Father
Age 20 Not reported
Heritage
Nationality USA Not reported
Ethnic Background Not reported " "
Race White " "
Physical Appearance
Height Not reported Not reported
Weight " " " "
Hair Color " " " "
Eye Color " " " "
Skin Color " " " "
Other Characteristics Not reported Not reported
Religion Not reported Not reported
Education " " " "
Occupation " " " "
Talents, Hobbies,
And Interests Not reported Not reported
Worse, you chose to withhold from me
your passions to fill empty times.
While I’ve been imagining you
living through space, you were boring
as one who reports everything,
on her tax forms, and as listless
as these unbearing ditto marks.
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