Pater Noster

PATER NOSTER

Once more she tails him room to room

like the stubborn tendrils of dream, 

blue footie pajamas swishing behind

boot fall. She is all straight lines

and slow pivots, finding at each arrival 

the empty space he left, faint smell

of coffee breath as he clumps 

into the kitchen to pack a lunch, 

back to the bathroom to brush, brief touch 

as he brushes past to swipe the couch 

for keys. Still she follows 

like a blind believer, slow 

but determined to be picked up, 

as if yesterday’s I love you wasn’t enough

to carry her across another long afternoon

of littleness. She totters along, 

chasing a father who stays a step ahead, 

busy providing for a child 

who just wants to be held.