The anniversary of birth and death.

 Today is my son's first birthday and the anniversary of his death and mine. 
We have been to hospital to have his hips x-rayed.  An appropriate place to be today I suppose
- our old haunt. 
Unconciously, til now, I'm wearing the shirt I wore a year ago, minus the arch where a belly would have been til 8.44pm tonight.
 Memories tearing shreds off me right now.  Next year, I hope they will have faded, but unlikely wonder-soaped away like the sweat stains on said shirt.  Speaking of...laundry!  I am well behind on pooh-cloth bleaching.

 

My son

put death in its place.

In his heart

He lifted his tiny head

Raised his tiny arm

And said

Later

When I've lived.

When I've learned to say the word.

When I've mastered it.