It is likely it is ample. Who hasn’t needed a gentle,
or less than, dash of green against their cheek?
A touch there, and even a conqueror’s fixations tilt
back to childhood, and how to conquer comes from to seek.
Perhaps our sons are signs, agitating the distracted
to gaze at the frescos restored to the apse, at the colors
of their beloved as they lean to whisper, tender and miffed
at once—these children! These inevitabilities of our Lord.

These leaves. It’s not so bad to be moved from your seat.
To wonder, What is being asked of me? Remember
the loaves and fishes I framed for you, the explosive vase
waving, as if to a hungry crowd, Time to eat.
I wrote on the back, “Our sustenance is vast.” Today
he arrives, his probable delights just as vast, as ever.

 

 

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Katie Hartsock’s second poetry collection, Wolf Trees (Able Muse), was a Kirkus Review Best Indie Poetry of 2023 selection. She teaches at Oakland University in Michigan.

 

 

 

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash