BITS AND PIECES III



 BITS AND PIECES III

Not to be left out of our conversation

the child injects, Something is following me.

Well now! Oh oh, D's thinking.

Here we go; this is not useful.

He's right of course.

I say, What is it?

The child's flat reply: An angel.

Over D's silent objection I ask,

Is it scary or nice?

The child's look tells me I'm the parent

I so resented-always lurking in the hall

or at breakfast, ready to pounce, to, you know,

Get it out of you before you what, for godssake, died?!?

He's doing this more calmly, nicely, than I used to.

I look down at the scraps of food on my plate

and remember the smell of burning leaves.