The So Close

Beth Johnson

pacing the boards under the new moon


no sheepish grin gliding through the screen door


no soft gin breath warming my neck


no clumsy foot crossing mine at the end of the bed


outside the streetlight bakes a sugar cone of bright white light

and sets it on its head before me


staring into the night courage hopeful all in a bag


the diapers, the bottles, the cash i have stashed, the address of someone i can count on



i lift my baby from her crib


rock her on my shoulder


rocking bright future



as fumbling footsteps frighten we cling to the almost   the

nearly   the so close   the knowing



that daddy is home.

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