| Dover is 3 |
his hair like canary feathers.
he puts his blue eye to the hole
in the board fence between us.
we stick out our tongues and touch. |
| Dover is 5 |
in a white suit.
mine eyes dazzle I help him pee
at my birthday party
forsaking all others. |
| Dover is 7 |
we sit in the tree of heaven
& hold each other like monkeys.
gently he picks my scab. |
| Dover is 9 |
teaching me to drink vanilla. |
| Dover is 12 |
with a cellar clubroom.
we play slapjack:
my hand under his hand lies
tingling. |
| Dover is 15 |
stealing his dad’s Melachrinos
borrowing cars for nightrides
& anatomy lessons. |
| Dover is 20 |
flunking out of
Duke, drafted.
we wrestle in dry leaves.
my fiancé races his engine. |
| Dover is 24 |
back from Korea & married.
his canary crest has fallen.
we revisit the old clubroom.
my husband is not amused. |
| Dover is 26 |
a father but the boy is dark. |
| Dover is 30 |
divorced & moved away
his blue eyes veined with red
his fingers trembling amber. |
| Dover is 35 |
& never a day older
thin-haired in the satin box
with a ruined liver
&half a lung. |
| Dover whenever |
I smell vanilla
your glazed blue eyes undo me
your 9-year-old drunken laughter
rocks my heart |
| Dover come back |
to my birthday party
in your white suit
back to the tree of heaven
the hole in the fence |