KENT FIELDING

Callia

Conceived during an electrical storm
Cracks of energy ripped the dark canvass
And you willed your way into your mother’s laughter
Floated in her ocean dream as your father taught
His voice some faraway murmur
Summer sounds of something above the waves
They told him you had come to break his heart
They told him you were his comet
All afternoon in the tropical light
On those islands in the remote South Pacific
He worked his English magic turned words
Into water, turned water into wind
And wind into the breathe of trees
The leafy palms that floated in his dreams
As nights he turned in his sweated sheets
As he worried about you, about what you
Meant in his lost boyhood, his lost last calls
When the alcohol became too much and he
Settled into a marriage with a woman
as a fierce as a flooded river, who followed
His endless wanderings, with endless love
With endless forgiveness for all the wrong
Paths, the trails that took him into the brambles
That disappeared into snow, disappeared into ocean
Foam, at the foot of icy mountains. Then you came
And he could no longer wander without
Your weight in his arms, your squeal,
Your laughter, your sleeping, your coos
To go that next block, to see the grass, the trees,
The dog again, to hear the crickets.
His happiness became the white moon of your voice.