Saturday, March 08, 2008



in December at 3 am
I sensed this nocturnal heat
my husband’s feet to mine

hand on my husband’s
fingers curled bodies semicircle
around a bed crowding boy

asleep in the middle of
his parent’s heart he began
to turn head towards toes dreaming

the day
4 years & 7 months past
rushing in

the world our waiting arms


January, 5:30 am, surfing
heaving thumping waves clutching

a phlegm wracked mother
snatching breath, but

given every last antibody,
he unhitches himself

this roiling hurricane
used to be his harbour

his own bed
invites quiet



January, 11:30 am
he presents himself

to his Grandfather & his barber
the first lock falls into a borrowed


February 8:30 pm he insists
on thick library pages

after cardboard close
sips 2 minutes

requests water
then a last taste

dances to bed
Broadway chin

over his shoulder
independent hands

wave a savvy flourish
no more morning milk


March 3:30 pm we snuggle
into the round red chair

he pushes my hands away
“stop petting me”

even the puppy knows I still have milk
and remembers separate bodies connect

NOTE: Folks who have been with me from the beginning may have noticed that lately I’ve not been calling Winston “the boy”. After four and a half years, my baby has really become Little Man. We have reached this strange, weird wonderful place.

He needs me. he doesn’t need me. He wants me near. I’m too close. Because Daddy has been managing the bedroom transition, he goes to him when he is tired - not me.

This is what I’ve been asking for. I used to joke about the 30 foot long invisible umbilical cord between us. Now that it has developed elasticity, I don’t know what to do with it.

This is the nature of parenthood. We are eternally catching up to each other as we leave each other behind.

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