Caleb

It was a cool Saturday morning
The fulcrum in my stomach wobbled
The world was shaken
Twisted
And turned
A comet shot down into our chest
That night
And things hadn't been the same
A summer solstice
Suffering
stomach lightening
Every six minutes
Breath
She looks at his picture
A womb shot
He tears release
Red eyes
My chest trembles
I fight to conceal it
His mother is our baby
a day later
Frog legs fold under his bum
Wrinkles at his knees
My pinky covers his neck
Asleep on her chest
Ice, skin, organs, melt
For him
In the wide window
Green leaves shiver
In the Afternoon sun
Crossing through them
We keep going
Moving forward
Wanting to look back
We try in the seconds before
Steel eyelids
Remember to close
Limbs spasm
Bodies
Escape to rest
Steel doors open
Time to move again
Time to feed him
Time to try
I miss him while I wait for the train
I have no idea what it is I miss
But I must look into the melon shaped eyes of his mother on his face
Again