a poem a day for a year #25

my small boy

crossed the line today

he is five years old

ciao baby face

fat full cheeks

hello lanky looker


we read poems today

in a fort made of tattered quilts

from the wooded hollows

of Athens, Ohio


we read "Your Golden Ticket"

by John Gallaher together

and I pointed his small finger across the text

lingering on words like zenith and


and his mouth

the perfect circle

shaped like a moon

like the sun he shines


and he tells me things that now make sense

the sun is a star mom

yes you are correct

and seven plus seven is fourteen

true again

and I am five years old

right now



and this moment is gone but this afternoon

is like a tattoo

on my brain