Glass (Crank 2)

and I do mean quick, to brush

teeth and hair, dab some perfume.

Screw the makeup, except to rinse

off what has puddled under my eyes.

Through the door, down the hall,

down the stairs and yes, while I flew,

Santa delivered my gift safe

and sound. He stands, moves toward

me, catches me in his arms, cinches

them around my waist, lifts me off

the ground. And now we’re kissing.

And I don’t ever want to stop kissing

him, even though the girls are squealing.

Ooooo! Cooties! Gross! Oooooo!

And we can’t help but laugh around

our kiss. And suddenly everything

is right. Everything forgiven. Every

minute apart and alone, forgotten.

We Spend Christmas Eve

Like a normal family—eating

and drinking and laughing together

like we’re a mom, dad, and uncle, plus a couple

of kids, instead of a father with two children

missing their mom and trying not

to resent their “nanny,” who has stolen

their uncle’s affection. Not that Trey

doesn’t play with them. He gets down

on the floor, helps them build a puzzle.

I watch, thinking what a great dad

he’ll make one day. I wonder if he could