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Poetry
Forever



My son will be five forever. Every day,
he'll shock me by saying please

when he stops me talking, so he can
listen to Ransome. Oh those Swallows

and Amazons and their fight for the island.
With his red racer toothbrush, he will

brush his bare butt (You said butt!
You said butt!) cry when I pry it away.

He will eat only cheddar on rice,
golden raisins, eat them with his fingers

and talk through each bite. He will hug
his sister knock over hard. He will hug me

full body on. He will refuse to put on
his coat with the broken zipper

even when it's cold, even when it's
pouring rain. He will know

without counting what happens
when one banana is taken away.

All day he will say, "Avast there
Peggy you goat!" and laugh and laugh.



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