Philip Schaefer

Letter to Together Alone

You’re nearly 3 in my mind & I have you on my shoulders
like a Greek myth on a trail by a creek in the mountains.
I haven’t hiked in years & you want to cry but even your acorn
mind understands the job at hand. Your mother’s in England
again & I feel responsibility like a mattress on my face.
Maybe tonight I will share with you the secret of slicing open
a hot dog, lining it with cheese, all the small pleasures
of melt & char & mustard dripping on our knees. I’ll spin
a little early Merle, dance with you on my feet. Together
we will make a call transcontinental, brush our teeth clockwise,
& I’ll dream it was all real with a miniature hand to squeeze.

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