For Tamara by Sarah Lang Read Free Book Online

brain of yours: / come back. / And yes, anytime is a fucking picnic.
    There are different types of stars based on size / how they die or collapse. / Some are like the sun. / Larger ones: white dwarf. / The neutron star: creates a black hole. / But before they die, / they swell: / a red giant. / Then there are supernovas/ae. As a very great man once said / and I’m pretty sure your Father could explain to you far better / “you are made of star stuff.” / The iron in our body is from a star that died. / Even the oxygen.

My Beautiful Idiot, / what I wouldn’t give to be with you would take a googolplex of pages / but unless I make them, / they aren’t here. / But she misses you. / I tell her stories about you / and she misses you. / If you are alive, use all that tech to find us, ok? / Fuck the world. / Husband of Mine, today is for me. / First crop. I’d swing it in your face. / Don’t you dare do this to me. / Not again.
    When I say, when anyone says, “get down”: Do. You hear gunfire — hit the ground & cover your head. / Because I love you, Tamara.
    T., / my darling dearest, / you’ll be okay. / In fact you’ll be brilliant. / And you never needed me for that. / Goodbye, my love.
    My grandfather gave me a keyboard. / The first song I learned was “Silent Night.” GAGE.
    I’m writing F=ma in your Dad’s shirt. / I think he would be proud, of my attempt at least. / He could do this far better than I. / I got languages.
    I had this dream:
    I said “I love you” by accident. The kids, everyone was packing, leaving, and you kissed me. You nodded, smiled.
    We were packing. The cars were out front. I was at the third-floor window when I waived.
    I said I was staying. I did not mean to hurt anyone. You held my hand and stayed out of sight. But they knew. She knew.
    Wood furniture.
    Tamara, you will watch me die. / This will be your responsibility. / All. / No, it isn’t fair. / This was never fair.
    T., know he isn’t Dad. / Dad isn’t here. / Play nice. / Yes, of course I wish yr Father were here / but he’s just not. / Mum is lonely too.
    I’ve been writing so many things for you, / I can’t tell what I’ve done already. / No orb-weaving spiders here are poisonous.
    I dealt with so many of your traits / & I never questioned them. / My geniuses. / And yes, T., / you most surely are one.
    You left / and here I am / calling in the troops. / Your daughter would like a photo of you. / I tell her you are helping. / I hope you are still alive.
    T., use that star map well. / Know the stars will change & move. / Know Orion is set to go nova.
    My life is a miraculous disaster.
    Because what he does is more remarkable than remembering my birthday. / Not that I wouldn’t like that, / but I forgive it. / Rather traditional.
    There is an image. / Me kissing my hand / turning it out to send it to you.
    Your Father had me move all over the world. / Now I’m just trying to make one safe place for you.
    Tamara, / you keep fucking working / always fucking working. / You take breaks to cry. / But you always keep fucking working.
    T., as a kid I used to talk to myself on my way to school. / Writing this book has me doing this again. / You’re making me myself again.
    I know, darling, / I could wake up every day at 7 and have a shower and put my hair up and go for a run. / That is never going to be your Mum.
    I’m annoying. / I kiss you over and over / because you are a miracle, Tamara / forgive me.
    You know I’m telling you all this / for when (not if) / I die. You’re going to have to keep on / and if your Dad gets here / slap him for me.
    Should I be telling you about Cinderella or The Little Mermaid / or should I be writing new fairy-tales. / I wish you could tell me.
    Mum’s tired of explaining everything she can think of. / She misses home, Dad, / and for this not to be her job. / She wants a day