“From ‘Heritage’ ”

I was born in the month of the Blood Wolf Moon. My mother said icicles shook the trees as she and my father traipsed along the black sheet sidewalk to their convertible. Her timed contractions stretched out, hours long, until almost midnight. After how many miscarriages. Hospital bedside, my aunt and uncle smiled over the crib. Or was that just a photograph? Tell me about departure. Tell me how often she left the newborn, jetted away on Pan Am, tied up the ribbons of her satin toe shoes. I am...