Sean
My Sean
My Soul
My Self
My images of Sean–
The last baby to
leave my body.
Ever.
Blindfolded baby
under the lights
Making me giggle
as I worried.
Bipolar Baby –
is that even possible?
Either screaming
with real tears,
Or tumbling over
with laughter.
Serious Sean.
Smiling Sean.
Sweet Sean.
Smart Sean.
Seeing Sean.
Bottle with a straw.
Mr. Rogers. Ties.
Jackets.
Basketball. Computers.
Games. Girls.
Creases between his
brows
Born in his baby
forehead.
His grandchildren
will put their fingers insides those lines.
Sean follows his
brothers
Yet is his own person
Practical. Longs
to please.
Worried. Always worried.
Confident.
Or so it seems to
those who don’t know his heart.
Intolerant.
Of enough things
that it sometimes feels like
Too much trouble
to just go through the motions of a day.
Successful. That’s
his future.
He doesn’t
see it now.
I know Sean as I
know myself.
My Sean.
My Soul.
My Self.
May 2, 2003
 Kings)
