A POEM

Kevin Raynard Hale

I need to write something beautiful about you
like the need to practice the piano with a metronome
or the need to throw a ball into a hoop on a Saturday.
So the river doesn't drain. So the dance never ends.
So the muscles never forget what forgetting forgets.
I need to write something beautiful
and it's easy with you. You. I love. You, who loves.
Remember that morning, on a weekend?
Up before dawn and you were clinging to sleep
as if sleep were a blanket in a old, winter cabin.
I brushed away your hair and whispered excitedly
about a rocket and a moon and a picnic
and said, "Wake up, wake up. Today is here."
And I think you smiled and patted my head,
because you tolerate me in the hours before the sun rises--
before the curtains catch fire and the cardinals sing, "Wake up, wake up. Today is here."
And the beautiful part, the part I'll write:
is about the peace that never seems to leave your face--
how the dream never falls away. How I could watch you
and watch you and wait. And not wait. And wait.

ash @ 12:06 AM