As much as I write about my boys, there will always be things I do not say, The Unspoken.
The following poem was originally published in Kakalak 2015.
Things I Do Not Say
His complexion was raspberry
tea, and he could fit
into a teapot twice.
I don’t mention this
when asked how I am, what’s
on my mind.
Born with his eyes fused shut,
they opened from me
holding him too much.
I can’t share this
even as I notice a stranger
with eyes the same steel gray.
I cupped his tininess, horrified
at my discomfort with the shifting plates
in my perfect son’s soft skull.
Precious memories
haunt me. These are
the daymares I cherish.
Copyright Julie Ann Cook 2015.
May not be reprinted or otherwise published without the author’s permission.
All rights reserved.
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