Sometimes a son
will surprise you   come to sit
on the side of your bed
where you lie with a broken leg
everyone else seems to have forgotten
He will balance three pieces
of grape smeared toast
on a too small plate   drink orange juice
from your best crystal   You don’t mind
this particular morning   the first sun
flashing off the leaves outside your window
He will tell you his funniest stories
fragments of toast   crumbling
onto the sheets   You will not brush them away
Your son will tell you these things
you’ve heard before
They will seem new now   as beside you he
shakes your whole bed with his laughter

From Teaching the Robins (Finishing Line Press, 2005).
This poem also appeared in The Tie That Binds (Papier-Mache Press).
Used here with the author’s permission.