Asleep on the roof when rain comes,
water collects in the dips of his collarbone.

Dirty haired boy, my rascal, my sacrifice. Never
an easy dream. I watch him wrestle my shadow, shut eyelids
trembling, one fist ready for me.

Leave him a blanket, leave him alone.

Night before, found him caked in dirt,
sleeping in a ditch, wet black stones for pillows.

What kind of father does he make me, this boy
I find tangled in the hair of willows, curled fetal
in the grove?

Once, I found him in a far field, the mountain’s peak
like a blade above us both.