My son begins to notice other kids
have one home with two parents in it.
We are driving and he wants to know
why Daddy can’t live with us.
The oil tanker is all mirror.
It returns us stretched wide
to ourselves. I never wanted
to be moving forward in all
directions at once, but here
we are, inverted, the reverse
view centered within what lies ahead.
I tell him mommies and daddies
are better parents when they are happy.
That his parents are happier as friends.
But he is happier when we are all together.
California poppies freckle the medians,
mouths open, the way I once
swallowed California whole
from my small curb of youth.
He cannot know yet and I cannot
tell him that no energy is lost
when a family disbands and disorders.
His missing father and mother are road signs
for the everywhere he is and will be.
Because love is unaltered by mistake.
Not a drop is ever wasted.
So wise. So beautiful. Wow, toots.
Oh, toots. Thanks so much!!
Oh, just love this: “California poppies freckle the medians, mouths open, the way I once
swallowed California whole from my small curb of youth.”
Thanks so much, Christi. Honored to share this with you!
last two lines – amazing!
Oh, thank you Diane!
Wow, this is an exceptional poem. My first visit to your site, Sage Cohen, and I am hooked. Superb. And I looked at your book at B&N Friday night (The Productive Writer) and four pages in knew I had to buy it. I did. 🙂
Cathy, what a treat to make a new friend here at my site. Thanks so much for visiting! I so hope The Productive Writer proves good company for your journey! Do you write poems, too?