Night Feeding

Our son cries from the other room,

& it is this sound that wakes me,

                                           wakes us both

Because we share in caring for him, I ask,

                                          Isn't it your turn?

His voice, new, loosens another foot of string,

a kite floating in the night sky.

So serious, you whisper,

                                     Just give me another second,

then lay your head back.

I find him sitting up, his hands gripping the crib,
his voice suddenly gone when

I pull him to my chest, & we return
to you, asleep, your breasts full

                                                          of dreams.

(c)Jon Pineda     2004

from Birthmark

Southern Illinois University Press

Carbondale, Il