And Earth Day is this month, so I’m going to recycle some poetry. Here’s one from when Liam was two that was published in the Clark Street Review (that sentence even rhymed!)
QUIET NIGHT AT HOME
Death, the elephant in our living room,
sulks in the corner; hisses to our son,
“Come, boy, sit on my lap.”
But Liam is running,
he breezes past Death and shouts,
“Zoom, Zoom, Zoom!”
With arms outstretched, he is an airplane,
soaring across the infinite skies
of a two-year-old’s imagination,
gliding, zooming, exuding life,
until his half-heart whispers,
“Liam, land the plane.”
Our boy crashes between us
gasps, pants, draws up
and clings to each breath.
Liam’s lungs claw to compensate
for the absent ventricle, the missing piece.
Finally, he rests silent in my arms.
Even as systems settle and cyanosis fades,
Death skulks near us again,
creeping as he always does
when he thinks he’ll have his turn.
Our boy slaps Death’s bony hand,
laughs into liftoff . . .
“Zoom, Zoom, Zoom!” *
* Published in The Clark Street Review, 2006.