Three hundred and sixty-five days
Of life and death, my body swelling
Then returning – partially – to its original state.
All the while my insides are in a state of panic.
I bury my face in the crook of my son’s neck and
Somewhere in that small space I smell you.
He runs a fat finger across your photograph and you whisper to us.
I tell him all about you, this mythical creature, his great-grandfather.
He stares at the slow unhinging and hinging of my jaw, a mystery itself.
He smiles and I think the creases at the corners of his mouth could be yours.
You would laugh at his curiosity; you’d lift him even if you felt too sick.
If I could say it, say I believe in somewhere other than here,
I’d say you’re still sitting at the dinner table, watching the
incoordination of his small hands.
A huge thank you to those who continue to check in and follow my blog! I am still trying to balance my two loves: writing and my sweet baby boy. Of course, baby boy wins most of the time. I am also hoping to begin work on a chapbook, focused on the loss of my grandfather (just over one year ago), and the connection I feel he has to my son, who shares his birthday. I will continue to post on here, although my posts may be scarce for a while…and of course to follow along with all of you.