A Mother of One Looks for a Sign

There was the dream
about two blue raincoats.
I tried on the first –
striking,
perhaps even perfect.

But the second
was iridescent,
each thread
phosphorescent.

*

Today my son said
Mommy I have a gift.
Into my palm he placed
a blue marble.

The daylight shone,
reflected off roundness,
the window’s quotidian shape
now bulging and convex –
sky in my hand.

*

Carry me like a baby, he said.
I cradled his forty pounds in my arms.
Oh, my sweet baby,
my little baby.

Waaaaaaaa,
came his fake cry,
and he smiled.