Afternoon nap

(my son, 4)

Quiet footsteps
& people leaving rooms
talk in whispers–
curtains drawn slowly
across his falling lids
as colours fade to

black in Lawnmower Land
a place where he can
drive a large truck
inspecting garbage bins
unhindered by grown-ups
in a heaven of motors
vents & sewers–
all with my son
in charge

Weedeaters trim
his long eyelashes
as i sit far off
reading in another room
unable to stop
the demons of wheel-dreams
from rolling over
my little boy’s brain

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