Kathleen's Son

You wear your confidence like sweet surprise

In cocky eyes, the brooding brow, the jaw

That’s firm and square but shoulders soft because

She perseveres at making this memoir

That you protest each time the camera’s shown

But submit to standing still, on the brink

Of front porch steps where growing up got marked down

While secretly, increasingly, you think

You’re grateful after all for the making

Of memories and hands and eyes that make

Them, eyes that will close, hands not embanking

All the horizons that your own will take

But that have held in mind and loved and named

Each victory, defeat, and every size,

And who is there, unseen, outside the frame,

But framed, reflected in your daring eyes.