27 November 2009

p.a.d. -- day twenty-six

Of the Waves
for Kenneth

A little boy
stands on a box
in too-big blue jeans,

munching on
carrot sticks and
singing Dylan.

We rush through
dinners, school days,

barely stopping to
bend and breathe in
the sweet and salty.

He stands on a
cardboard box bare-
foot and plucks a

guitar, his ten fingers and
toes are gulls that
say good luck

slowing us down. The
boy who swells and
breaks like every

breath is every-
thing. The boy who
knows a clock different

from the one hanging
on the kitchen wall. The

boy whose laughter draws
honey from the
roaring sea.

No comments: