a dog can still breathe steadily
as I hold a basketball and wait
for my ears.
I am someone I am. a meditation
on a father. an intro.
a mother can still claim
her belly is an air bubble
kept for the mouth of her oldest
who swims to middles
of ponds
in jeans
on the same
dare.
I am the alarm that is later
not
a heart attack. just a sharp pain
the size of your son
blinded again
by the ache
in god’s
toe.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
a dog can still breathe steadily
as I hold a basketball and wait
for my ears.
I am someone I am. a meditation
on a father. an intro.
a mother can still claim
her belly is an air bubble
kept for the mouth of her oldest
who swims to middles
of ponds
in jeans
on the same
dare.
I am the alarm that is later
not
a heart attack. just a sharp pain
the size of your son
blinded again
by the ache
in god’s
toe.
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