She reminds me that this
is the anniversary
of my father’s death,
and this time I do
not pause to wonder
which one of the three
I have had, but neither
of us knows how
many years it has been
since he died, since
I got the text from
my once brother
announcing the death.
And neither of us
knows where, or if,
he is buried.
But since my brother
has told the world
that he is the one
and the only living
child of the man who
died on this day,
perhaps he is not
my father despite
New York state
saying he is on
my adoption papers.