Sunday, 13 January 2013


3 a.m. and I am watching Treehouse
with my grandson who cannot sleep
because he has the flu and a fever.
And like any good grumpa I worry
about this little man and if I should prepare
to take him to the hospital,
and my wife who posits confident assurances
that he will be fine and that all kids get sickly
and I know it's true but I stay downstairs
with him on the couch for about a third of
the time, and for the other portion
he settles on my lap,
and into my arms,
with his head on my chest,
and I shudder just a little
with emotions I really
do not want to feel for
I become so damn vulnerable and
life is so damn precarious,
because everything matters now.

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