by Curt Stubbs
In the April darkness a child squalls,
Abandoned by his mother, put up for adoption,
unwanted for 11 months. I never knew he was there.
I never comforted his fears. I never held him against the darkness,
but he grew through all the traumas of childhood,
perhaps magnified by his cleft palette,
and I still didn’t know he was there.
I never taught him to throw a perfect spiral pass,
I never taught him to throw a wicked curve ball,
I never taught him to ride a two wheel bike.
I was never there for his teen aged angst.
I was too involved in the pursuit of the perfect high, the mainline drunk.
even so he grew to manhood, pursued and won a wife, fathered little Erynn.
She never cried in the night, I bet, lonely and not knowing who her father was.
I never even knew I had fathered a son.
By my seventieth year I had calmed down, I had grown responsible,
learned to take care of myself.
But by then he didn’t need my care, my hard earned lessons.
He had all the things I never had, a career, a family,
a certainty about his place in the world.
Then he matched dna with me, found me
and I was startled out of my complacency.
and I finally knew where he was.
3880 N Park Place apt. A