Song of the Midnight Fox

Sample piece from Song of the Midnight Fox

I tiptoe the width of the landing
to check on my eldest child.

The curtains hanging open
the room half bright with streetlight,

he is sprawled
like any teenager
suddenly too broad
for his narrow bed,

his eyes in shadow,
his jawline shadowed
like a man's

I go no further
than the door

for here in this dim room
sleeps a grief too deep
for a mother's healing kiss.

Yet he smiles in his sleep:
tossing ball on the green
with his two dead friends.

Until that Sunday morning
when it all came
crashing in,
death was a too-big jumper
stored on the highest shelf.

I have watched him,
tentatively
easing it on;
daily growing into it.