A poem for raising a boy.

my boy will discard
parts of himself
drop and expel
tuck under pillows
forget

i cry for the parts
what i see and do not
he is perfect and infinite
but less each time
but still perfect and infinite
and i can’t understand

he wants angels
sunshine and waves
flight through air
not worried about landing
danger or the voices of warning

so i make deals with god
keep him safe whole
and injure me
my blood and pain
to keep his smile
until the day
the desperate crushing day
it no longer can

—Photo andrijbulba/Flickr