To My Child

To My Child

You come to me some nights.

Hair in your face, like mine once
            nose running—a cloud of prairie allergens
            coming at you like marauders—
            green eyes seeded with brown
            soul infested with empathy
            brain buzzing with worry.

You look at me with my eyes,
reach for me to hold you,
and I turn away.

You want to know the world—
for me to plug in
and power you up.

But kid, I need that battery
to make it safe to shore.
If I fill your eyes with light
I won’t have light to see.
Then you’d be here,
and we’d both be so lost.