Joy to the world
Joy to the World
When my baby cries on Christmas Day
I touch his smooth cheek with my lips
and look in on his tongue testing the tops
of the walls of pink gum lines.
I cradle his siren and let screams pile up
to an ache in my ear.
We cannot say what we mean by these pains
so I hand him over to her. Full and round
she feeds our liquid blue eyes
still unacquainted with light waking up
to yawn over the miracle snow.
My son Nate is a senior in high school so it’s his last year in the house. This poem was written in the first year of life of one of our boys. I can’t remember which one.