Glass (Crank 2)

is okay and the roads are clear,

I can drive down there. If not,

we can figure out something.”

We leave it there, and it isn’t

until after I hang up that I realize

I didn’t even ask about Hunter.

I Sit at the Kitchen Table

Sketching Hunter from a recent photo.

Every now and then I look up to watch

the snow. I’m lost in a silvery view

when a little hand taps my shoulder.

Whatcha doin’? asks Devon.

Who’s that? referring to the portrait

becoming flesh on my sketch pad.

The girls don’t know about Hunter,

and I don’t want them to know

I left my child in my shadow.

“That’s Hunter. Isn’t he cute?”

Uh-huh. Will you draw my picture

too? Self-absorbed, but what can

you expect from a six-year-old?

“Sure. But how about if I make

you breakfast first? What do you

like?” I expect a simple answer

like cereal or cinnamon toast.

Bacon and eggs and pancakes.

Mommy used to cook those.

Can you? Some sort of a challenge?

“Of course I can cook them,

and you can help, if we have