Mom was on the phone
tears on her red face
not speaking, she just stood

My ears covered with four-year-old hands
somehow her sobs still entered
bounced into my head from crazy angles

I pressed the scrap of wrapping paper against my head
keep those bad sounds out,
pretty pattern make my world sweet again

I took the wrapping paper from my ears
wrinkled in my sweaty little palms
and for just one moment it was perfect

But then she finally said the words to me
and sounds suddenly collided
and thoughts crashed into each other

I knew we would never visit him in Maine again
and Poppy was gone
and the wrapping paper hadn’t kept it out.