you who never came

you were not the only child
i didn’t have but the only one
i named

not Near Miss or Scare
but a good and proper name
a name i can talk to sometimes
reach for like whisky

guilty comfort that you aren’t here
to answer or mewl for affection
(which i manage even for living
daughters only in beats)

to you i ramble and pray
not-son
in whose perfection
i trust always

you who surely knows
which of my apologies
to believe

you who never came
and so
can never leave