little footsteps, falling fast
my heart grieves in turn, God

my nerves are shot

threading
through the seats
of that little white chapel

sewing
sinew and bone;
thread alone, thread alone

so he sticks a hand
into the border fires
wets the fray of running wires

with his tongue

swinging, spirit
spirit of inquiry –
then onto his knees
in that little white chapel

stopped as a pendulum

swung onto the asphault
arrested, there, in time

God,

have mercy

grace even a hair—

where is my son?
he asks

dead in the back
of a Mayberry ambulance
stopped as a pendulum
where did you wander to,
where did you come from

God

there,

staring

cries him a tear of Pentecost

where his breath tarries
til' he wakes with a start

where is my son?
think love comes with little cost

little footsteps, falling fast
sleeping like a dead leaf

I make sure he's still breathing

a breath in, a breath out

that licks the flame, makes it weak
so I sleep with eyes as wide as saucers
in fear the candle might be brief
come in, my little selfishness—

don't take him away from me‎‎      ‎