Watching My Son Eat a Sucker
in frustration
he curls toddler fists
screams high-pitched
ready to go to war
with no one at all
and everyone at once
sputtering “i drop it”
he hiccups and spits
roars irate at clumsiness
the sucker now stuck
to the carpet
i tell my wife
she should not worry
he will learn
rage bubbles up and
dissipates
i’ll teach him
how to breathe
deep and slow
how to calm
his racing heart
for now
we let steam roll
and watch
his feelings
bewilder and exasperate
surfacing strange
and new
My Son’s Rough Mornings
he hides his face
from daylight
not interested
in the brightness
from the hall
“go away”
he is two
and knows
how it goes
he wraps his head
in a blanket
hopes I’ll leave
tries to rewind time
back to the dream
of the womb
i wait a few seconds
the blanket moves
he looks up at me
and chooses
a new corner
of his crib
“good morning”
I reach my arms
“no! go away”
he balls up
there’s nothing
to do but lift him
out and tell him
this is how mornings
will often be
Stars in the Morning
we see them
early in the morning
the majesty of the stars
like pin lights in the sky
they grab his attention
better than any cartoon
wonder plastered
across his tiny face
mouth open
eyes wide
he reaches up
towards the lights
“hi stars”
he stares and smiles
a small boy
on a small blue speck
in the expanding milky way
we wave to the stars
watching our world spin
wondering things that will
confound us until we die
he looks to me for answers
“stars?”
“yep, those are stars.”
he sighs and we stand
a moment longer
contemplating it all
My Son’s Dirty Blanket
he balls up
the blanket
to use as a pillow
two tiny fingers
pinch a cheese puff
he found in the couch
he brings it up
to his mouth
before I can protest
I say “ah”
but it’s too late
he crunches
the stale puff
then smiles and
wipes his hands
on his blanket
his chief possession
smeared with cheese dust
and satisfaction
Bedtime Reading
he wants me
to keep reading
not because he
wants to have more
stories in his head
but because he doesn’t
want to go to sleep
so we sit and read
another book about
a blue truck doing things
a blue truck could never
actually do
and he smiles at me
his little arms hug
my neck and he whispers
“one more please”
Hi Moon
in the fall
with the leaves
turning and dying
the moon
comes to life
in the mornings
i take him to daycare
when i park
get him out
he waves
to the dark sky
“hi moon”
i carry him
into the building
he waves again
“bye moon”
and the day
officially begins
Open It
he says
the same thing
for anything
he wants
to him everything
can be opened
or shut
apples
oranges
bananas
trees
our dog
his blanket
the bath
movies
water
hugs
“open it”
sometimes a question
not a demand
and how he looks
at me when
he says it
makes me
want to open
anything
split my chest
crack my skull
break my back
i open myself
in ways I never
knew possible
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