(Note: #22 from a 23-poem sequence, Little Boy Blue: A Memoir in Verse, CavanKerry Press. To read #23, also a part of this reading, see above under the book page for Little Boy Blue).
22
So this kid comes up & goes . . .
Hey, Mom, make a wish.
I wish I could begin again with you.
(Soft pale rust the color his hair’s become).
So this kid comes up & goes . . . Mom, make a wish.
I wish I were in a rocking chair & your
infant head were pressed into my neck.
Mom, you’re most like a zebra––calm & flashy.
So this kid comes up & goes . . . Mom, make a wish.
I wish I were a pair of ragged claws . . .
No, Mom, be serious. Make a wish.
I wish I’d never hit you or screamed at you.
Another wish, Mom. Please.
I wish I’d always kept you close, had taken you with me.
[So this kid comes up & makes us laugh,
a natural joker. Kid jester.
Kid clown. The kid cracks us up.
Funny, funny kid––you can’t help
but smile, then he’s got you, your poker face lost
& he’s happy,
he’s got you, made you laugh, made you cry,
gotten to you . . . ]
So this kid comes up & says, Mom, Mom, it’s me, your
own little boy. Says, Mom,
I’m not needed there any more.
Says, Mom, this is too nice for me.
Goes. The kid goes & dances with dogs, takes the two
toast-brown dogs & drives away in his white truck.
Billy & Milly.
Silly names for dogs. Silly means blessed, yes, blessed.
The kid comes up & goes . . . Smile, Mom. It’s not so bad. You’ll see.