Generations


He puts his hand on my arm,
says,
“I love you, dad.”

I mutter something imperceptible,
take one more sip from my can of beer,
clear my voice and 
say,
“Let’s go out and play some catch”




​
Father’s Day Rued


It’s hard to believe that
the boy who runs toward me --
wide eyes and a wider, louder smile;
whose open jacket mimics his arms --

will one day walk toward me 
with a shrug and sagged shoulders
or maybe even turn and walk away





My Sons Asleep Last Night


They lie 
scattered on the bed,
eyes closed –

books waiting 
to be opened





Spool


The 2 am sewing machine feet 
weave a zigzag pattern from 
one room to the next –
pillow in hand; smile on face

he is the next stitch
in a long line of thread

They say it shouldn’t 
be like this 
a child should sleep
in his own bed

But these late night visits
sew the three of us 
together instead of
tearing us apart




​
After the operation


After the operation
I wonder,

bigger houses,
bigger cars
to keep the family
closer

this talk of 
quality time,
and
family time
and
providing more
to make things better

as the three of us
- my wife, my son and I -
sleep soundly 
on his hospital bed