You Wouldn’t Believe How
We Have Never Been Apart
In the living room
she sleeps a very good sleep
the sleep of winter like the
forest brook we know now
rolling over into spring and she
rolls too toward me in her sleep
so at the moment she
awakens, looks a bit spring
startled, slowly standing
and now opening her eyes
there she is again
with me
who never went anywhere
who never would go anywhere
I am waiting while she sleeps
see the many blues of her necklace
the freedom of her bare legs
the spill of her sandy hair
for a moment she doesn’t seem to know me
it will be lovely to meet again
Always
Where one
Iris grows
Alone
It would
Look better
As two
Pegleg
we saw the fox at a distance
hopping on three legs and
later went to find his snow
tracks crossing the pond
sure enough — three paws down
one paw up
this morning we found his
tracks closer, climbing the
stairs to a porch and stopping to
look into our bedroom door
Only Child
He is four years old.
Ask him — he will say
He is four years old but
Almost five years old.
It is winter time. Sweetheart
Has gone to town for errands
And I am home for the entire
Afternoon. The snow is deep
Enough to sled, we sled. In
The front yard, in the back
Yard, down the driveway hill
Someone drove their truck up
To visit and we use the tire
Tracks to begin our slide.
After awhile we sled across
The dirt road looking madly
Both ways, stopping above the river.
Its current gushing over ice.
When he was three years old
We all went down there to
Catch “lobsters.” Don’t worry.
Now he is four years old and
Buttons his own shirt in the
Morning, wears clothes like
Me. His hair is long, thick
And blond, perfect to mess
With my hands. After we sled
He shovels snow into the sled
Says it’s rocks and this is a
Dump truck. Cheeks berry ripe.
He explains everything to me.
He is in the backwoods with
No friends. He deals with Jack
The dog, geese, chickens and
Cats like people. Don’t worry.
He wants to know where the
Boot tracks go that disappear
Into the woods. I don’t know.
He reminds me they’re mine.
When we go inside we strip out
Of warm clothes and together
Drink hot chocolate at the kitchen table.
He wants the spoon.
When done he follows me into the
Other room where I sit in a chair
And he climbs onto my lap.
He looks briefly into my eyes,
It’s been a wonderful afternoon.
He burps, laughs in my face.
—————————————
Bob Arnold
Heaven Lake
Longhouse 2018
