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.’