My son will be five forever. Every day,
he’ll shock me by saying please
when he stops me talking, so he can
listen to Ransome. Oh those Swallows
and Amazons and their fight for the island.
With his red racer toothbrush, he will
brush his bare butt (You said butt!
You said butt!) cry when I pry it away.
He will eat only cheddar on rice,
golden raisins, eat them with his fingers
and talk through each bite. He will hug
his sister knock over hard. He will hug me
full body on. He will refuse to put on
his coat with the broken zipper
even when it’s cold, even when it’s
pouring rain. He will know
without counting what happens
when one banana is taken away.
All day he will say, “Avast there
Peggy you goat!” and laugh and laugh.