Parenting

For N. Nguyen

 

I've watched the sun set under you

and rise over you,

and when the sky opens up,

it opens up on you,

and when it's closed,

it shuts like a cell door.

 

I dream I'm something I'm not.

I'm not anything,

I'm just tied to a balloon with a silver string,

digging my heels in, bat in hand,

uninvited but ready.

 

And I'm anxious,

which is not unusual,

but usually anxiety is selfish.

 

And I'm more than anxious.

At times I'm terrified.

I want to wrap you in a blanket and hold you tight

but it's not for me to love, nor to coddle

which depends on how this text is read,

 

and if this is being a father I can see why God never found me a wife.

​

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