Son  

He is always saying and telling me
something urgent in the same tones
I use when I am telling him something
urgent but nobody is listening.
We are alike and unalike.
I like him I do.
He says he likes me
So what’s the problem.

The problem is birth.
What an opera,
the lights, the dais,
the cast of characters wearing
the same gown.
We’re both there
forever.  I am.
Where’re you?
You’ve left the building

Entered the stadium
where the team is getting ready
to tear each other and everyone apart.
Are you garbing up?  You say no.
But I can see your pads in the backfield
still skin on the cow’s back.  Io,
I think and you laugh.

Page 3

Copyright 2007, Hilda Raz.
 All Rights Reserved by Author.