the sun is high
young voices howl
the swing creaks
yet we lie here
i have no desire
to move from this bed,
to take my hand away
from your new goatee
oh how easy it is
to fall in love
with the morning
allowing us to stay
this is a dream
to wash away my nightmares
to feel my skin on your skin
to know you are mine
the sun is high
our plates are full
but there is time
always, for love
from the window
i hear a scream,
a bloodcurdling cry
and the baby spatting
at the middle child,
I didn’t bite you
as hard as you bit me!
this after ten miles
for my eight-year-old’s legs
pedaling like a pro
along a creek-crowded path,
hula-hooping for the band
while the little ones
played imaginary games
in the trailer
and i think,
wet dishes from grandmotherly
meal in hand,
how is it that i must discipline
this moment of violence
when i cannot keep
the smile from my face?
with these feet
you will pound it out
you will remember your childhood
your hand in his
you will run
run past the wind
as the moment
you last saw him
slides into your subconscious
and he becomes a part
of every step you take.
the same book that binds us
tears us along the spine
where we’ve fallen into cracks
unseen by words on the page
if we could close the cover
or open up to page one
perhaps we could see
where the story would take us
instead we skim
unable to truly read
forgetting how without the words
we wouldn’t be here
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