The Two-Headed Calf
Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.
- Laura Gilpin
I just read this poem to Finn.
I do not know what I was expecting.
For his reaction to soothe the day I have had?
For his fresh take on all things to calm my nerves?
This day has felt like stroking cat fur the wrong way.
You know that way. The way the day feels when it feels wrong.
I read this poem to Finnian just now before nap.
He looked at me for three seconds only.
He farted one of the loudest farts of his young life and threw his head back in glee.
He skipped to his room.
I am still here.
title post- Casablanca 1942