Sunday, July 30, 2017

captain nugget and the fuzzy cargo


it was probably 
the abnormal amount of rain
and the distant flashes of lightning
working their way
through the folds in your blackout curtains
at 3:17 this morning
that raised your alarm

we took shifts laying on the floor 
next to your bed
one hand extended up into yours
trying to soothe you back to sleep
but unable to let go 
and move towards the door
without you raising your head 

it wasn’t until i thought about the quilt
your mama draped over me 
when my shift started
that i understood

the quilt my grandma ellie made for me 
when i was only one
has Noah’s ark on a blue background
all the animals looking out their windows
with an owl at the top 
watching the waves curling against the orange hull

you were surrounded in your crib
by a rainbow giraffe
blue bear the green dog
a small mouse holding a green blanket
a washington u ladies basketball bear 
with converse high tops
an elephant with a light in its back
projecting stars and planets on the ceiling
and minnie mouse and sock monkey 
nestled into the corner

you had brought them all aboard last night
each and every one confirmed
the same as every night
up from the couch
up the stairs to your room
and into their proper places among your blankets

and now you standing at the bow of your bed
your hands gripping the top railing tightly
like a ship’s captain on the rough and squirming seas
awake on the helm all night 
eyes locked onto the horizon
keeping the ship at right angles
to the wind 
and to the waves



Sunday, July 9, 2017

the world behind the stroller this morning


was the smell of humid earth
shocked into action
by a rare high desert rain last night

was the sound of bits of songs
you murmured like a mantra
interrupted by the words
for the animals along the way

was the sight of your hand reaching out
from under the shaded canopy
every time we walked next a juniper bush
or patch of feather reed grasses to let them wave and flutter through your fingers