Monday, February 1, 2016

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.

No comments:

Post a Comment