for John Newlove
The first time I saw you, heard you read
I found you old beyond your years
to my surprise
You wore your frailty poorly –
the timbre of your voice, your hands
trembling as leaves must before they fall
I wished you‘d let me stand behind you
place my arms under your arms
my hands under your hands
We would be strong together
and it would look as though your hands
turned the pages with ease as you read
But I would not speak for you
No, your words are…well…
yours to say as long as you can
and then for us to read to ourselves
alone
JC Sulzenko
Back to where we belong
We’ve lived a week of wisdom teeth
My lovely 20-year-old in her little girl white bed
A child for one short week
sleeps badly, faints from too many painkillers
We savour rich chocolate ice cream, very strawberry gelato
make chicken soup from scratch
mash potatoes ’till they squish
Pale-faced, cheeks puffed out to shame a chipmunk
she loves the comfort
Silly movies absorb long afternoons
Small, slow smiles sneak into her repetoire
Then, as the worst winter storm ices barren branches
she packs frozen mini meals, antibiotics just-in-case
I wave her out the door, into a car that whisks her from me
After she’s sheltered in the crook of my arm
I should be thrilled she’s okay
Instead I turn from the window
Hold my own hand
JC Sulzenko
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