Apparent
In memory of Evan, four or five years old
If it had been an open
window you would’ve kept
walking, but because
it was sun-puzzled glass
you saw me through, you stopped
halfway across the yard,
and squinted through the glare,
and waved, and seemed to wait
for something else to happen,
and finally it became
apparent that it had
already, and that you
were being kept from what
you’d been about to do
by nothing, and you gave
me one more gentle wave —
I’m here, you’re there —
and left me in my frame.
Poet’s Notes: I don’t think I’ll ever write a poem that successfully conveys the broken-openness and vulnerability of being a parent but I plan to keep trying.
Editor’s Note: I enjoy how “apparent” is a clever play on “a parent”. “Apparent” was first published in Seattle Review.
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