Paper and Twine


who
pretends to be happy
and watches you sleep
pretends to love
and feels it deep
in the heat-lamp intensity
bearing its first son
like it bore its second son
like it's grating on the pavement
skid-marks making heavy decent
from point a to point b:
we had them consistently.
and we love them
if they let us. if they are good
we pour into their mouths
riches and well-bottom knowledge
one can only gain from the weight
and the novelty
of
the twice-given love, heavy burden
of his hand resting on your shoulder, tenderly
her smile lighting up the room
(i saw it once
upon waking, shiny
face-glowing effervescence;
waking a darkened room)

she loved him 'till he was thirty-eight, loved him
like the moon reverently loves
the earth
who she follows, in all her glory
giving light to that star, whose death
is on-coming

and calls him home. calls his tantrums
called his known-secret hiding squat-legged
knee-deep in his own destruction.