An ESME Poetry Showcase Award submission
Evening Guilt
I should be proud of the calm
in his 10-year-old voice saying
he’s fine, finished his homework,
parroting I love you before he hangs up.
But I am mostly bitter
in this sweet moment
because he is alone, swallowed
into a silent, sunless house,
taking care of himself
(an unnatural task for a child)
slicing his own apple, pouring
his own cereal into a Spiderman
bowl, washing his own dishes.
Closing the door behind him
and locking himself in, being
his own armor, protection, and peace
while I make do, 80 miles away
in a town he can’t fathom.
On the ride home, I pray
aloud that these lonely
dusk hours will not be
his single remembrance
of me. I pray that he
recalls the smell of pink
grapefruit after kissing
my freshly cleaned face
goodnight. I ask God to
only let him conjure up
autumn Saturday mornings,
our breath forming small clouds
between us as I snap his
chinstrap, tighten the laces on
his cleats, and send him off
to battle. Let his reminiscing
be filled with the laughter and
reverie of singing along to
Bruno Mars as he stirs the pasta
and I brown the sausage
for Sunday dinner. Let the
small, kind moments swell
in his heart, leave no room
for dejected sunsets, bruised
promises still needing to heal.
