For the A-Z challenge, we decided to post a new and original poem every day. Today, Juliet tackles the letter "Y" with a poem for her sons.
My sons barrel through the kitchen,
Their young throats ready
To gulp full tubs of peanut butter
Hot quesedillas, burned at the edges
Fresh grapes, too greedy to chew
Broke open wide
Hearths thumping in full view
One still burrows in our bed at night
My arm draped across his small, hot chest
The other, fifteen and fierce in his resolve to shed us
Somewhere along the way
My role settled against resigned shoulders
Observe, not direct
Stand so still
As youth races through
Save a white pillow between our heads
Where the night fears can't find perfect, growing boys
Buy new shirts to fit their expanding shoulders.
When they allow it
And fill the cupboards with peanut butter.
I love you, I love you
I love you