He says he’s one in a million,
That he’s thinking of us as
We think of him and maybe,

It’s the thinking that compels
Him over docks, headfirst onto
Solid ground, and then into

A slow roll where he pounces
Up, children in his eyes. He’s
Been fine since age five when

His father used to swing him onto
His lap, and the two would drive
The family’s ’93 Ford Aerostar

Around dirt roads. 389,000 miles
On the bucket, and he still doesn’t
Know where he’s going. Sometimes,

That’s the best part, like relating
Blind judgment to one’s soul, or
A hurricane. He says Hugo didn’t

Scare his father. He’s a daddy’s boy.
I could ask if he was afraid of the cancer,
If his father still shook his hand the same,

Tight and silent. Some things are already
Said, because we have our family and then,
We have our family. He says, uncertainty

Drives me insane and I say, it’s been driving
Us all to a place in the mountains. And
Personally, I don’t know if the North

Carolina sun is any different from Kentucky’s,
But it’s a start and it’s a sight to see a boy smile
The same way, no matter what light he’s in.