Poetry: My Son

My Son
–Susan Cataldo
From drenched: select­ed poems of Susan Catal­do 1979–1999

I love this messy room you live in
The plants you care for
The nick­els & dimes & pen­nies you pile
Up on your desk like no-good money
The Amaz­ing Spi­der­man poster on the wall

Tapes paint com­ic books biographies
Of all your favorite presidents
A pic­ture of the Lin­coln Memorial
On the wall fac­ing your bed
An eleven year old dusty red TV

Daphne turn­ing into a tree
Two auto­graphed pho­tographs of
Leonard Nimoy. Dracula.
A cross made of branches
Held togeth­er by a rub­ber band

You love daisies
& keep them alive until
Every bud has blossomed
You are inter­est­ed in
What every­one is doing

You think of new things for them
To do you make them heroes
In your fan­tas­tic head
You look strong & handsome
But you don’t see that

You want to defend help­less people
You want to know why there aren’t
Real­ly super heroes
You ask the same questions
I ask myself & can’t answer

You don’t under­stand jokes
You think they hurt
You are con­stant­ly dodging
Bul­lets & dream­ing up new
Ways to defend yourself

You are stub­born to a fault
A fortress of mind & chest
Eyes nev­er more mirrored
The soul than your
You deny love

You want to be “dif­fer­ent”
You don’t want to feel
How much you love this life