Infant
admin August 2nd, 2009
Infant
Who can tell you it will be like this?
I have a camera for watching him.
I eavesdrop on his sleep, his soft quick breaths.
Sometimes I love him best this way-
Powered down.
When he wakes I can feel my heart quicken, my body
Warms with apprehension.
He becomes to me a hidden explosive.
Tread softly, I admonish others.
And yet sometimes I love him best just when he wakes.
I race his father to see him.
Hands on the stairs I push my way up
As an animal.
I lift him up and breathe his skin. I celebrate him.
I produce my hip for his seat.
I run toward him and yet away I pull always.
I love you, come here.
I am tired of you, let me be.
Others, watching me, must find me insane.
Perhaps, I think, they are not so incorrect.