Little Squeaks — PJR

For Better or Verse — Poetry Month 2023 et al.

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Apr 2, 2021

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Little squeaks and grunts
In the water-colored splash
Of early morning sun, clenched
Hands anticipatory or frustrated
With problems, nondescript and
Or resolved.

Your eyes brow furrows questioning
Or crying out “I know I don’t know and
Want but can’t,” and for now I may as
Well be deaf and dumb. The dimples
In your cheeks peek, sometimes,
At my watching face, and in those
Times, I’d like to think you mean it.

You hold my finger in one whole hand,
My life clutched in the other. Your mother
Struggles sometimes to comprehend
Just how you’re here, and how your
Eyelids flutter. But she and I, and you,
Are for each other, the reason we
Even are where we are at all.

My father’s hands once held me up,
Why and how I now hold you; loosely
And closely. Between the grooves of
Each knuckle, I’ve asked myself if
It were possible to love something
So much. Today I danced a russe
While you were sleeping; and cried
This morning while you were awake.