Sunday, February 8, 2015

Waiting for Baby Hystad


Waiting for Baby Hystad

We are relearning lullabies,
take our aged voices out of storage,
dusting off angel, night-night, hush.

Your scan on the fridge
is held there by magnets as you are
by the pull to your father’s heart,

your mother’s – who comes back to visit us,
her old home, carrying you. Sleeps in her old bed
where she was first whispered,

slept then within my heart, as you within hers now,
your fingers fully formed, your lungs stronger,
your ear attuned to her voice.

Before she leaves she lets go
of all her childhood things,
takes the faded posters from the wall

of moments when she shone:
Carousel, My Fair Lady, Miss Saigon,
ready for this new stage, to mother you,

while your father dreams
in the too-long days of duty
of coming home soon,

driving you both across
the wheat fields of North Dakota
golden as the hair on his two darlings’ heads.

Photo of Hystad ranch courtesy of Peter Moore

©  Geraldine Mills   4/10/13

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