What will come

What will come

—for Misha

From my perch
at the nurses’ station
I see them on rounds—
the bright ones

as they trot like puppies
behind the attending
sprint stairs
rehearse cranial nerves
believe they are special
—some are, some not—

They’ve yet to sum tolls
the years
the molds
how they will replace themselves
misplace themselves

I’ve had to tell one
my son
medicine is a business
you can’t spend so much time listening
to stories

while two boys
who scramble like kittens
miss you at bedtime
will need tuition before you blink
and you

my creative one
haven’t written a poem
in decades.

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One Response to What will come

  1. mark says:

    You bet, it takes a long time to understand what has happens in a lifetime, even more so throughout the generations.

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