her eyes match mine
she'll be five come summer
a whole handful already
that bovine dog who likes hula hoops
who would rather lie in my room
where the floor is cold and hard and chipping
than in her own rocking chair
cushioned in the light and warmth of our living room
with mom and dad and rabbits
and windows full of things to watch
but she makes her choice
she wants my floor
she wants me
and as i swaddle her
and watch her eyes close
i want my heart to match hers

i shush you again
but the corners of my mouth
turn up in response to
that happy grin that's
flashing across
the roof of the car at me.
in most of the county
the sun is setting
but here on the
dusty edge of a switchback mountain road
the world is aglow
in your smile.

bet these cowboy boots
suit you better than
the combat pair you spent
three years marching in
so don't you even
think about running
this isn't the jungle, buddy
just another tobacco field
and those aren't bombs
only fireworks
and they're up there
for you

since you shed that
olive outfit
i've spent every moment
trying to remember you
trying to relearn you
dying to relieve you from
whatever keeps you gone
and out here on the porch
crumpled between the
rusted water heater
busted rototiller
and every broken lightbulb
awaiting the dump
rocking like a lullaby
before the nightmare comes

and i know
you haven't closed those pretty eyes
in months
but buddy,
i'll be right here
when you wake up