email:
julia@writeworks.net
My Son Grant
by Julia
In his pocket a lucky penny,
a piece of amber beach glass
and a ruby bead he found on the playground.
He sweeps his hair off his forehead
with the back of his hand.
His shoes are brown and worn
like his pants
both hand me downs
from his brother.
He doesn't mind, says
they are new to me.
On his palm
a little ink man
he calls hand buddy
eating exactly what
Grant has had for lunch; today
a cheeseburger.
He asks me for a pen
take my hand and on my palm
he draws three stars
then a thin line
to my wrist
(it is surprising how much this tickles)
looks up at me and says, see Mom
now you're powered by stars.