POETRY FRIDAY

For about the last six months, my younger son has been working at a doughnut shop. He works the night shift, making doughnuts from ten until six. I am thrilled that he has a job and his own spending money, but I spend more time than I would like to admit worrying about him.  I wrote this one night when I couldn't sleep.


"Sweetness"

At dusk
my man child,
basketball player
and gamer by day,
doughnut maker by night,
dons white chef's coat
and flour-dusted boots
and strides out the door.

I am more than a little unsettled
by these forays
into the night.

For the first hour
I picture the driver
who has spent
her evening
imbibing
before sliding
behind the wheel
only to meet my son
in a metal-bending
life-stealing collision
somewhere along
his fifteen mile trek.

From twelve 'til three
I imagine my big guy's
red blood seeping
across white tile
as gun waving thieves
rob the quiet shop
of donuts and dollars
and from three to six
I picture horribly
disfiguring accidents
with hot grease.

Sun rises,
and I envision
my sweet guy
falling asleep
on his way home
at the end of his eight hour shift.
Another metal-bending
life-stealing collision.

I want to grab his belt loops
and yank him backward
into childhood.
But each night
my donut making man child
strides into the night
and I pray
for one more day
of glazed sweetness.

-Carol Wilcox

Heidi Mordhorst, at MY JUICY LITTLE UNIVERSE, is hosting Poetry Friday this week. Head over there for a whole lot of sweetness.