she spies love
like a hurricane in her thin chest.
he holds her with rough hands,
makes use of his photographic memory
when he holds her and she turns away.
but remember this, she says:
we used to love in the dark,
when love was a good sunrise,
when our bodies understood one another,
before time made us love just a little more quietly.
we still love, she says.
only this way:
with each gentle sway of our son as he falls asleep in our arms
in fingers interlocked across the console after grocery shopping
at the dinner table, covered in conversation and pureed carrots
in sighs of exhaustion and mumbled goodnights
in a damn good sunrise.
**Hi from the parent side of things!!! It’s been WAY too long….but I’m still trudging along with this chapbook and raising this absolutely amazing little boy (who is almost ONE, by the way).
I’ll try to show my face around these parts a bit more often. I hope everyone is well.