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.

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