I've been carrying around all these wishes for you, just inside my eyes, in case you ever need them. The lucky thing about wishes is they don't go bad, but I am starting to think that they might go a little less, instead, a little softer. All of this time just sitting there, waiting for someone besides me to need them.
I have been reading a book about Haitian voodoo in which they discuss the components of the zombi poison. They grate the skull of a baby and an unrelated leg bone into the concoction, explaining dismissively that every good potion contains bones. The book goes on to discuss the pharmacological properties of the rest of the ingredients, but I think it's really the bones that are the important part. Bones are where we keep our secrets, and most of our magic.
But it's also true that I am filled with all of these spare wishes, all of these love letters, doing all of this looking, just in case. Because I don't know quite how to do anything else, and you never can be sure when any of these things will come in handy. Prepared to draw a soft shining net around whatever you might need hidden, holding everything safe in the creases of my palms.
When I think of all the time left to come I wonder about what will happen to all of these things, piled up in lovely sweet layers in all of my rooms, still waiting for someone to need them. If that's what the future dictates, it's lucky that each of them will keep. It's the secrets and magic inside my own bones that I worry about.