1.

in a corner of the dark    

he paces lickety-split

arms stiff to his sides

hands flat out fidgeting

it is definitely not ballet

he spins a few circles

then claims he needs to pee      

I pull him close

to breathe and breathe

until he finds a groove

in the liquid gloom

the heartbeats loosen

into something at ease

and holding five fingers wide

I run an index up

and down the skin

coaxing a little Buddha

and I speak mantras

so my youngest might

lasso his runaway self

we talk of how the night

beaches in holiday homes

and if you close your eyes

the blackness can somehow

be your own type of tar

I say count the sheep

leap the fence  

time to be ready

prone to the dusk

braver now he says Dad

stay close make enough sound

so it’s not just me and silence

2.

under the cloak of this house

he calls but never for me

all night gun barrel dreams

make him sound round notes

and I become the far off rain

clotted cries ripple the night’s barn

fending off some floor stripped away

in that moment no longer a father

only a bubble loom croon

a hollow fur flying by

a clink of chains in the darkness

a hinge opening on a home

Overland’s Friday Features project is supported by the Copyright Agency’s Cultural Fund.