Before the Moon
My boy’s breathing is fine. The moon is late rising,
The palm of night presses down. A few stars.
As eyes close the pressure inside and outside
The eyelid equalizes like the pressure inside
And outside the house. The house sees nothing too.
The wind like Zhu Xi sees nothing and begins
To investigate things with clarity. A few windy
Mornings ago I drove my son to the hospital
After he could not stand up because of the pain.
The night pressed in on the windows of the car.
Though it was perfectly still outside my panic
Drove the air into my resisting frame.
Zhu Xi was so still and undisturbed
He could have been lying against my windshield
And I would have seen right through
Him whispering knowledge and action
Are indivisible. After morphine and the three
Incisions, after the handcuffed prisoner
Who swallowed metal things was rolled out
Of the ER, after the appendix, vestigial
Like a scholarly appendix, was removed
Zhu Xi was an untouched cup of coffee.
A still Saturday morning parking lot.
Days later I am still there. Zhu Xi
In the back seat because you are
Beside me. Zhu Xi pressed against
The bedroom window like a giant moth
We look through waiting for the moon
Through closed eyelids to appear on
His wing. My son’s breathing is fine.