Those Children

They were habitually with him,
by his side,
sometimes joining his evening gatherings,
sometimes having afternoon coffee or tea with him.

When he’d walk out in the mornings
toward his car,
one of them at least would fall with the snow
or gleam along with the sun on summer grass
like the advice of trusted old friends
or the consoling caresses of a husband or wife
or even the warm expression of a mother
above one’s crib.

But when exhausted, ill and dying,
brittle-boned, hunched over,
a collection of echoes, repetitious,
born of the bottle,
lucidity more and more
a casual visitor –
when the old man became
the tolerable,
all that bore
the aura of trusted friends,
consoling caresses of a husband or wife,
even warm expression of a mother
above one’s crib
had
by and by
disappeared
as fair weather friends
or like what once was imagined
to be summer’s rippling moonlight
turned out to be
flapping fish in a boat
headed for the belly.

Such are the children of time,
one child Status,
another child Power,
another child Fame,
another child Sex,
another child the Human Body,
and the Child of children
identification with those….

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