icing on the cake

a kid i teach is in 3rd grade. he is no doubt an über-genius.
last class of the year, he suddenly starts telling me at the sink
what it feels like to be
him in the world. he is acutely aware that his hands, body and brain don't work
together; feels bad that his artwork is not what he envisions.
this admission breaks my heart
because it is so true.
i say i understand.
he sits down, paper-punches three shapes, tapes them to a paper and
writes me a poem:

to show how
you are a star
in dark moments
and sweet in others






inside of a card from a first grader.
it has spent most of the year on my buffet.
many mornings
it allows me to go on
with what i do best.
such a simple image
made with a dot
and a line
stirs the secrets
of the cosmos
within me.


the taste of this icing on the cake
puts me in the Wayback machine, blastoff
to 1993:

barren walls
belie my room
mock me from
my empty womb
children crawl
then walk
then fly
smile as they leave
forget goodbye
revel in the stars
the sun
and moon
for youth is swift
and over
soon

this might win the Schmaltziest Poem of the Year Prize
but forgive me
it is what's real
to me every year
when i cry
alone in an empty room
after they leave
no matter the age
young
medium
old
and my friends
call
and say
they just cried
too
but we don't
speak of it
other than
to each other
in shorthand
especially when
sometime in May
till the end
kids start
asking you
to adopt them.

this is what
it is.

and you just want to
scoop them up
and carry them
home
but you
don't

because your hands, body and brain
just don't work together.