sometimes i wish i were back on that staircase

floating in my father’s weightlessness

peeking sheepishly over his shoulder

to watch the world ebb away with lullaby cadence


sleep, whispering its secrets in my ears

my limbs unravelling to begin their subtle sway

like fields of underwater wheat

caressed by deep, gentle currents


floating. out to sea, out past the horizon

past the fingertips of gravity

to where sea and sky press together, quietly and softly

and promise to hold each other forever


and suspended there, wrapped in cloud-cotton blankets

i reach out my little man’s hand, and

pat-pat-pat my father’s back

to tell him, ‘thank you. thank you.’