Jude Marr / Cross-Town two buses and a subway crush to get to Red Hook, and— Amanda, friend who could make a torn tee shirt breathe: friend whose sleeve smelled of consolation, back when batter hugged the bowl’s curve and every afternoon ran, arms wide, toward cake— Mandy, sitting in state with fifty candles, does not unwrap the gift I have flown six hundred miles to deliver— my hand, curled around her wrist
136