One of many

poems for remembering

What I love more than anything else
is kissing that sweet low spot
between your eyebrows and your forehead.
When I sing Thou my true father and I thy true son
it feels new, sung for you, for I am aware
I do not know what it is like to be a man.
We need men, Jacob, wrestling strong.
Maybe when you are ten, buzzed-cut and stocky
you will read this and roll your eyes or blush, but
you will understand because your daddy 
is a strong man who likes to be kissed and so
I can’t help asking God to give you a woman who will love
more than anything else just to kiss you,
doing good to your battered old heart 
even now at its faithful work trembling the stars
on your footed jammies.