USE YOUR WORDS
My son looks up from drawing plants with teeth,
says, “You’re long-gone when we’re at Dad’s,” then tries
to find a better green. I think I’ll weep,
or maybe raise my hand and give him five.
He’s used his words. I want to hand him back
some other words, remind him that he’s fine,
but nights when he’s not here I jolt awake;
the other side of his long-gone is mine.
I burrow underneath my blanket pile,
remind myself he’s safe, we’re fine, and … and …
the research shows, blah, blah, that kids can thrive …
Outside the maples wave their empty hands.
My son sleeps on the river’s other side.
I cannot swim across. It’s cold, and wide.
—from Rattle #82, Winter 2023
Rattle Poetry Prize Finalist
__________
Meredith Mason: “I love the way that sound and meaning are in conversation with each other in the making of a poem, how they inform and guide each other. The process of weaving something whole and surprising from the varied sounds and symbols that make it feels like a chance to become more whole myself, feels like a kind of relief I crave. It’s a little like if you had a terrible itch in your duodenum, or right under your left kneecap, and poetry was the only thing that could relieve it, you would have to write poems, and read poems.”
