Your Son

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Will she tell you now? This morning
when all the twigs and buds on trees
are shimmering, winkling against one another

and you are holding her son’s cold face
against your breast, and you are weeping.
Will she tell you now, now that the chance
not to love him is past? You stripped off

your jacket last night when you pushed her
up against the door, pressing your mouth
into hers. When you saw him this morning, lying

on his side as if his body was a letter folded.
You saw him, you ran to his side, you knelt
and lifted his head to breathe into him.

But she didn’t say a word, she let you
mourn, let you take over where her mind
was as white as the snow. Afte that, there
was no way to get the words past
her teeth. Forever, he will be yours.

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Filed under Musings, poetry