"Cross": A Family Poem

Manila paper, too tough to tear,
address says Tempe, Arizona.
I know the city's name,
and I'm finally old enough to read
my own at the envelope's center,
the middle name,
the one I used to go by when I was a
girl. And not a woman.
The package drops a gift into my palm.
I ignore the letter still inside:
"I miss the drawings
you used to send."
Gold. A cross. At center, a glass circle.
"Hold it to the light and read
The Lord's Prayer. XOXO."
The sun's bright, like a toothy smile,
Bright enough for me to read (I can finally,
finally read) a prayer-
"With Love, Great Grandma."

Baby Brother's too little but he wants
to see or taste or smell.
One tug is all it takes to make me
hate it, the thin broken chain
and the letter I'll never read again,
wadded in an infant's fist.