just outside the spectrum
of visible light,
the child spins, arms hanging,
not helicopter-like…
gazing up, and right,
in the direction of his spiraling
imagination

the mother casts his name,
luring him back;
siren mother singing
her absent son
home

the child hears all
and everything
his name a murmur
buzzing bee-like;
an annoyance
he ignores

the child laughs
and returns,
hugs the mother,
looking up into her softening face,
proclaiming “I love you,”

she asks him where he went
but he was nowhere
and everywhere
all his senses more
and bigger
and oh, so much brighter
than hers
he was feeling the whispers
of laughter on his skin,
the old monster,
Seam-In-The-Socks
attacking his toes
and all the while wondering
if he had saved enough allowance
for a new video game,

there, in the half light,
the child blinks in and out
of existence
tethered by love
ready to fly away…
the mother whispering
incantations,
prayers to Whoever
that the boy will grow
roots.

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