Confidence Game

I hid your emptiness from you
nine months ago in a cigar box buried
in a field forgotten by its senile farmer.

I tempted you with words
smooth as those the wind speaks
on a slow day. I stroked your hair

and fed you candied ginger
that conceals its spicy delicacy
deep in an amber heart.

Without knowing, you helped me
by drawing a few extra breaths
for the two hearts beating inside you.

After the hairs on my head finally
fall at my feet like memories
my stiff back won’t let me pick up,

look inside the box under the rock
in the forgotten field.
There you’ll find the emptiness

you thought you lost,
as small as a child’s coffin,
as big as the hole in which it lies.

Kip Knott | Mudlark No. 26
Contents | Returning Home after the Birth of My Son