So tender, the dovecote’s best resident—
although at another time he could cloy,
for today, he’ll be the example to boys—
although he could rake at the nerves, I’d say,
his jink-a-jink prattle sticks at your ears
like honey-dots left on the pillowcase.
And hail to these ladies, aunts in a sudden, with
gifts for the masters before he can speak,
then dereliction—
hell to my candid-faced, smear-bodied son
my love to my one who’s sullen and quiet.
-2003
