Poetry
Aubade
Before the boy & his early
morning wails—I’m too big too big—
as if sleep’s dark magic
has turned him giant-sized.
Before the baby & his staccato
sobs, little red body
curling
& arching like
a rubber band being plucked.
Before the sun & its attendant
duties, before the strident
high & low
of the mockingbird’s song.
Before the neighbor’s
shoe-clatters above, before
traffic, after love—
your breath rumbles
hot in my ear, the bass note
our life is strung upon.
1
Have something to say?
Login or register to leave a comment.