recently he fell and smashed his teeth and his mouth was bloody and i was horrified and felt nothing and thought to myself they’re only baby teeth they’re only baby teeth and afterwards when the dentist finally saw him and told me he would need his front teeth removed and walked out of the examination room to find an oral surgeon that could take a two year old i held him closely and wept i could not hold it anymore i could not hold him any tighter but i did in the end just before the surgeon needled his gums and the nurses tried to tell him it was going to be ok i had my legs wrapped around his and my arm gripped his little hands and he screamed while i pulled his head tight against my chest my darling boy my darling boy they ripped your teeth out because we had to and later much later weeks later i whispered to him while giving him his vitamin i am sorry my son i didnt save you it was my fault i couldnt save your teeth and he had his arms wrapped around my neck and fingers tucked in my hair and he replied no daddy no it was my fault i broke my teeth it was my fault and i write this now the day after and i weep all over again
Monthly Archives: March 2010
a reasoned life
To live a reasonable life. A reasoned life. Of measure. Of lulls and consistencies and triumphs. Of awakenings and yearning and starry night skies. of bustle and progress and the occasional pitfall. Or moment of respite. Of clamor of joy. To live.
o son o mine
sweet baby boy, o son o mine, the pain you bring me, the fear and joy, the absolute hysteria i feel holding your body in my hands.
birthday greetings, little one of six
my little one, first born, my young lady, my dream child: you’ve turned six in the midst of the chaos of your brother’s lost teeth. i am so sorry my love that it has been so horrible. if i could take it all, i would. you are the shine in my eyes, you are the curve of my smile, the gentle pause between each beat of my heart. i hold you and it is as if i am renewed, i am reborn, i am here, at last. you bring me down to earth little one, you bring life to this old weary ghost.
your pound of flesh remembered
he said i live in a hurricane of language and because of that i will always be trauma, i will always remember it in new and horrific ways, there will always be poetry in my despair, i will haunt and be haunted.
and i replied, don’t touch my children, leave them be. take from me, take your pound of fucking flesh from me.