Baby

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Margaux brought Billy over to see Frank, 

Who got cuffed a bit and called Doggie, smiled at

My own kid, almost 16 years old, with liver disease and cancer

Gray ears and swampy breath,

Drinking in the light drinking in my friend’s daffodil hair, the same

Brown baby eyes as his, lakes on a jewel-planet, 

The earth turned over and alive.

Later I stood at the Price Chopper with my cart: 

12 lemon loaves and jars of mush, not crying just

Scared, I’m coming home I said, rushing back, to my happy friend

A bed filled with sun and his rough breathing, concave sides,

Eyes watchful: they telescope a dark future, 

Just as his tiny frisking shows our long, deep past.

You met a baby today, I tell my only baby and he has some dinner and

Dreams of the smallest hands. 

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