It is no secret
that I loathe you
and all that you take away
from my little boy

That he cannot
tell me
when his tummy hurts
or mention his boring day at school
recall the scary dream he had last night
or pout at the dinner table, and tell me that he hates my cooking
(I wouldn’t even care if he said that, by the way)

That he cannot
ride a bike with his brother
or play tag with his friends
(the ones he made himself; the ones that call and invite him to movies,
 and trade snacks with him during lunch)
that he will not tease a girl because her smile makes his heart swell and she smells like strawberries

(and this is such a tiny slither of a but)
there are these moments
where he does something
and I know
you play a part
and it’s something
I wouldn’t change for the world
because they are the moments
that suspend his
red-inked diagnosis
while for a few giddy seconds
we are given something
to talk about

There are certain things
I wouldn’t want to change

is not
a peace treaty

will never be

I still
run you
out of town
stubborn step
at a time

I just may
while doing it
in a little while

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