CALL ME BELOVED

Call it a privilege, the knife of stabbing pain down your back –
it started while moving the coffee table to make room for his bed,
you felt the muscle snap leaning over to kiss your son’s head – oh,
throw my limbs on the fire. I’ll burn to keep him warm. After all –
when he runs up to wraps his arms around my torso, bury his head
into my cheek, doesn’t everything fall right back into place? I’ll give
him everything, all that I am – his fire is still burning bright while I
am all charcoal and ash, but he keeps me warm – he keeps me warm –
keeps me in his heart his arms his dreams his mornings; he keeps me