I pulled our child away from running to the altar
during the supposedly solemn services of Maundy
Thursday and Good Friday but perhaps inspired
by the newly acquired aforementioned plastic eggs
besides the theological implications of unbridled
unpremeditated action displayed for the congregation
to witness at slow moments of the service a hymn
sung legato a call and response burdened by rote
our child ran to mother (the pastor) briefly before
breaking loose under the rail around and around
the circular altar as if running laps unlike the distance
she never seemed to tire only pause occasionally
glancing in my direction to know I was still there
betrayed by one small outburst of I SEE YOU
a peek a boo we still play I hope she never grows
out of and based upon our visits with Mister Rogers
who never passes up an opportunity to cover his face
and uncover again to let us know he is still there
our child paid no mind to the seated multitudes
she might have known were drawn to her activity
there is probably no such thing as pure unself-
consciousness but our child embodied the quality
creating a new liturgy of limbs in motion for the sake
of motion for when they rolled the stone away
was that not the ultimate game of peek a boo?
what is a circle for if not to find ourselves running
around occasionally pausing to admire a blossom
following the path encompassed by the center
we never quite approach except to take a wafer
prepared there for imbibing or as our child would
have it carrying out from the sanctuary with firmest
grip until finding the right moment to savor it
Tag: DadPoem
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A Circle Altered
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Out of Tomb
New holiday in life first time
experienced such that understanding why
pretend plastic eggs literally
carpeting the too soon for green grass
actually in hiding and there for picking
up with fingers into small basket
for the purpose of collection
hindered by lack of height and/or
fascination with shape or color or seams
taller children who carry as much
as they grasp drop eggs for our child
to find accomplished with some help
namely our fingers pointing in their
general adjacent to giant dandelion direction
Later car singing rear view mirror thumb
in mouth absorbing the day with bubbles
and stones and small soccer ball squeals
at the point of needing sleep through side A
of Godspell Off-Broadway Recording
that carried me through childhood first
theatre production witnessed when I was
almost twice child’s age now barely four
now forty years later how will I explain
daddy cannot make it through side A
without sympathetic sobbing at the sound
of soul vibrato intoning gratefulness
all good gifts around us are sent from heaven above
then thank you lord thank you lord for all your love
How then the feeling of remembering my
father’s fall almost one year ago this the first
year such that less understanding as time
runs out he would play the red cassette
in the car too loud probably to hear anything
else he said he loved listening to it to me
why do some moments feel new while others
seem always to have happened we offered
our child a new book at bedtime she kept
turning to the page where the children hunted
eggs she found each one as well as naming
everything in sight there a tree a birdhouse
a sheep a line of triangles around the farmhouse
everywhere grass everywhere something growing
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Goodnight Shadows
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
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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
Joshua Keiter 