The So Close

Beth Johnson

pacing the boards under the new moon

 

no sheepish grin gliding through the screen door

 

no soft gin breath warming my neck

 

no clumsy foot crossing mine at the end of the bed

 

outside the streetlight bakes a sugar cone of bright white light

and sets it on its head before me

 

staring into the night courage hopeful all in a bag

 

the diapers, the bottles, the cash i have stashed, the address of someone i can count on

 

 

i lift my baby from her crib

 

rock her on my shoulder

 

rocking bright future

 

 

as fumbling footsteps frighten we cling to the almost   the

nearly   the so close   the knowing

 

 

that daddy is home.

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