When you could not describe pain, you screamed until I felt it. Your eyes like a cat's saucer, licked clean. The story of five loaves and two fish in reverse, a basket never full. When you could not ask for food, you showed me boxes: the baking soda box pictured cookies, so that is how you interpreted it. I am the wizard who turned the cookies to white, flavorless powder. When you could not ask for help, your hands became a language and I became your seeing-eye dog. I have bruises that mean I want an apple and My brother is crying too much. When you could not say my name, I changed it. A whimper, a toothy smile, silence: I answer to all of these.