Before she falls asleep she turns
back to objects within her grasp
meaning sight meaning saying
goodnight to the plates the cups
the peanut butter applesauce snacks
goodnight to the stairs to the room
where her books live in her fingertips
flipping pages faster than she or anyone can
read them meaning she looks for patterns
she looks for fireplaces lighting
the dark room the mittens the light
in the toy house she waits for more song
in the rocking chair at night she lifts
her head to sing along when your heart
is full of love spelling friend the alphabet
meaning special she leans back to see
the lines of streetlight through the blinds
she says goodnight shadows meaning
the reflections have a life she cannot miss
wishing a safe passage to the other side
guiding safely through the night meaning
the lights in the mind relating echoes
of life in the day however passing the dark
winter having arrived the light coming back
the snow raining down in the dawn
we thought we would never see it as such
the years without the glow in the heart
you cannot see even as they arrive
meaning we will see them again arise
meaning the light has no end you will see
again when there is nothing but light
goodnight shadows it’s time to say goodnight
Tag: DadPoem
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Goodnight Shadows
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Bananas
We have lost count of words
the toddler among us
gives voice to
sometimes with understanding
such as while watching
Mister Rogers introduce
a bowl of fruit she recognizes
apples say and bananas
of course she’s seen them
and enjoys them most
of the time when she is not
throwing them to the floor
small reminder we are out
and put them on the temporal
mental shopping list
small reminder my father
required a breakfast banana
with a sharp knife
to place coins into his
cereal bowl each morning
a ritual now past
I recall each time
I separate the toddler’s banana
into circles with a dull knife
surely her teeth reaching
into double digits could chew
a more rough hewn portion
split with bare hands
though uniformity satisfies
some elemental recognition
how we know what is good
for us through shapes
circles that round the plate
figured between thumb and
finger signifying okay
sometimes seen through eyes
and when it is time
to place what is given
within and without
O taste and see dear mouth
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Sleep Song
My voice carried
by sound waves
quiet as possible
to ear of serene
child on the verge
of sleep in my arms
the loudest thing in
the universe right now
barely noticeable
to everything else
how this is evidence
for our existence
how arms resist slightly
descending to bed
clinging to say hold me
before relinquish
holding the notes
steady in her breath
all of being a song
we repeat silently
to ourselves in sleep
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Milestones
I now know that time does not move in the same way without a difference for instance at the checkup while you reach each milestone at a year such as eating things by yourself and pulling to stand with a helping hand how can I be sure I myself have not passed by some demarcation designated by the fullness of my belly after crawling to chase you down the hallway out of breath does that song still mean as much now as it did then? how many more will pass before you get to know them? do the years spent in limbo without any trace of your premonition still feel as desperate? in fact yes they do witness these bread crumbs I continue to brush off my sleeve out of rest the dishes that need solving each evening after repast how is it that you have some idea of a spoon? why do I hold mine with such messy assurance as if I have some gift imparted by the passing hours turned into years I had no idea were mine even as I gave them away to wherever time goes these morsels you grasp so easily now in your hand sometimes they reach your mouth if not they are caught by grace in a bib above your lap
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Year One
A bit surprised by how intensely
the memories come flooding back—
is this why some stay the same
age you were when you met them?
The brilliance of sun today resembling
the euphoria of the drive home
after days in the hospital whose hours
remain somewhat unaccounted for
What did we do when we what did we eat
in those hours when breaths were new
and awkward cries holding your held
atoms radically assembled into grateful arms
Today as the rest of the world wore
unnecessarily fancy hats you tumbled toward
the iPad turning over to see the other side
such familiar faces facing your brightness
Surely they must be there in the flesh
magnetically attached to these radiant absences
how used to living you must be this longest
first year we could not imagine what we did
Where we went who we were going to be
before you suddenly appeared on the other side
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Brown Bear
By the last page
pointing to each figure
she holds my finger
directs it out of order
to hear the sound
images again
I wonder what she sees
my hand or her own
repeating syllables
familiar yet different
signified by shapes
line and color
associated with world
somewhere beyond
the page within reach
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Transitive Property
Appropriate to arrive
at a lack of words
to describe the child
speaking every syllable
in existence
at the presence of
faces on a screen
namely those who spoke
her life into being
the transitive property
of words before
coalescing into
definite statements
pass through this gate
of babbling
for the sake of all
consonants and vowels
to inhabit her activity
knowing all unspoken
will find their voice
in the course of time
the child is still getting used to
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Proofing
The worry is that some worry
whether they are ready to have a child—
the problem is that that is nothing
to worry about the problem comes
when you realize you aren’t ready
for them to wake up from a nap
one day and suddenly bound across
rooms and hallways stretching for
any object living or stationary
without regard for decorum or
the probability of physical limitation
anything within sight is apparently
within reach and why not since
you can only be afraid of what
you cannot see—remember
when they were an ultrasonic pattern
on a printout did we really expect
the tables to be overturned? In fact we did
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Pull to Stand
Watching someone attempt
to do something
for the first time
knowing it may be possible
a leap into mirror unknown
reaching for the attainable
in a hopefully safe environment
nevertheless with
swathes of saliva
on mesh or fragile plastic
guiding the way
tells me everything about
instinct and tenacity
resilience and strength
growth and stamina
I could ever hope to know
in a shining tiny human
it also in no uncertain terms
really freaks me out
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Okay Chorale
Today was the day we situated
the play yard around the living space
which the child decided was ripe
for launching legs and limbs in rapid
articulation from edge to edge
past the barrier to the forbidden
bare floor zone leading to the precipice
of the stairway and the kitchen
after some deliberation I decided
it was not appropriate to call it
a play yard perhaps more of an okay
corral it will make do for a child
who suddenly is unsatisfied with place
which she would replace with motion
how unlike I think as I stand in
the kitchen washing dishes scraping
bits of food she should not eat yet
I pause sobbing into the suds thinking
of the moments almost a year ago
when for thirty hours she deigned
an interregnum of motion having
determined the spot in which she had
been placed for nine months or so
perfectly suited to her situation
it was decided it was time for her
to arrive however without her immediate
consent I sat in the hallway helpless
not that I would have much to do
in either case in my fabric footies
and impromptu antiseptic attire
having no idea if she if she would be
okay if any of us would be okay
if this world she so boundlessly springs
forth into having no idea of her
destination will be okay all I can do
is wipe the rinse away and place
the dishes in their appropriated places
and collect my thoughts hoping
this space will be okay we will be okay
we will all be okay
Joshua Keiter 