Someone closed the shades.
Nurses and doctors stepped in
and out. What they allowed me
to hold in my arms could slip
away like dawn into morning.
I said, “could.” We understood
it to be “would,” but I didn’t know
of the slow suddenness.
These new mornings, I part
the curtains and time the sunrise.
I still don’t know when it ends.
The day rushes in and exits.
You must know this transition –
one mother that day, another the next.
I didn’t anticipate long nights.
Tom Holmes is the founding editor of Redactions: Poetry & Poetics, and author of three full-length collections of poetry, most recently The Cave, which won The Bitter Oleander Press Library of Poetry Book Award for 2013, as well as four chapbooks. His writings about wine, poetry book reviews, and poetry can be found at his blog, The Line Break. Follow him on Twitter: @TheLineBreak