CALL ME BELOVED

You started the game. Let him use your body
like a jungle gym; it was cuter when he was 3
but now your son is all choking and elbows, he
cackles while he wrings out the air from you,
presses you back into some kind of present –
it’s 10 at night. He asked to sleep in your bed,
and pillow fights quickly became a full-weight
blanket, tangles of arms, legs – slow breaths –
Both so tired. Hold him close and lay on hands,
whisper a benediction into the silence. Maybe
you can pour every last ounce of goodness
through your fingertips, into his back; his hair,
  please, god, give him all the gentle mornings,
  all the kindnesses deemed impossible for me –
or maybe, you were just holding it for him. Now
is his time, pour into his vessel. Please, let him
just be