Song on the Wisherwell

by Nick Jaina

you changed the color of your hair
the night she took a lighter to her hairsprayed hand
and I thought of your name when I saw the blue blue flame
if she could have stood the pain
then it would have matched the setting sun
it would have matched your chinese gown

you turn the pages of your book
but you forgot the words that led your fingers there
and the only weakness they could find in superman
was if they could bring him a piece of home
the home he fled from
the home, the home that fell apart