and bring wax. I’ve used all of mine even
fogged holiday candles. I’ve burnt

a string run through hard fat from my bacon.
Please. Or I’ll be forced to rob bees at knifepoint

and politely collect their products for months.
Please bring a crystal ball. I asked around

but no-body carries anything round in their palms
or chest since you’ve gone. Please bring pictures

of your mother and sisters, there aren’t enough
here to render or read or eat from. Bring my voice

asking at an older age or any sound you decide.
But bring a watch and paper and map it out. Pass over

like a comet or pass through like a note between fingers.
Just bring any oranges and your compass. You never owned one

but please bring one and name it, make it your own.
I have to insist you bring your hours

and your purse and hand-foods
and your perfume
and your
and you
and