Revision

Painting by Jill Somoza

Revision


So you step out
and the blue sky’s
nowhere in sight. Instead,
you have dark strands of melancholy
and guilt
dripping down, stirring
the tips of trees
slightly, as if to imply:
“Are you satisfied now?
You deserted your father and mother.
Who’s next to go?”
In your dream, your adult son
was a child again
with frost in his hair.
You were ecstatic
to find him and to be able
to warm him
inside the fur-lined winter coat you don’t
wear any more, but keep
in the closet,
just in case.
In those days,
the lines were clear-cut:
the ground froze and got snowed on
in winter,
your children depended on you,
your parents were carefree
and arrogantly traveled the world.
Now, you
are your parents,
your children are you,
and things are not
as they seemed.

Copyright © 2004 Joseph Somoza