For a friend mending grief 2,700+ miles away

When you beckoned me 
through the looking glass, I saw your tornadoed world.
Debris orbiting you. I have since been nursing dreams
as a kangaroo, feet springing a thousand miles
in a hop. Sometimes, a tern – wide wings
spanning this flyway, birdsong 
medicine to your wound. But 
my favorite is where I am a bookmark 
between the pages you inhabit. I watch you 
relish the words; hide them 
in your belly. Their light flickering
in your basset hound eyes,
scraping away your grief.