Your arm drapes along my whole side…
My son at 6 at the end of the weekend
Your arm drapes along my whole side
From my shoulder to my hip to my ankle
Where your finger circles the knob
Of my joint firmly. I can feel the warm press
Of your palm, the weight of your elbow
Against the worn fleece of the sleep pants
You brought back from a trip I didn’t know you had taken.
Curled up and still, protecting the viscous diameter of our bubble,
I hear the chunk of the Blazer door close,
The chicka-whirr of the motor starting,
That thin wrong whine that you can’t hear.
I feel your fingers circle the shifting stick
And the steam-engine hiss of Mom’s breath
As she stands inside the door shadow
Staring down at the floor with the twin beacons
Of that yelling that comes from nowhere
and the look of a trapped puppy
That got kicked twice.
Just know that I close my eyes then
And grow big like you. I am walking all alone
On a warm road, with animals romping all around,
And something like music ringing in the air.
My stride is easy and free, the skittle-strong grip on my heart easing.
I still remember you but I am going away.