When You Were Small

we played with stuffies — all alive

sentient, personalities, speech

when I last visited, you had given

nearly every stuffy away

you handed me a small box

inside were four bunnies & a sloth

oh, Slothie, what a favorite you were

along with Moosie & Alice the penguin

& her baby Pinky, Floppy Dog, Kitty

the terrible dog that barked

Aurora the otter, Buttery the turtle

pink & brown Teddies

one bunny called Rescue Bunny

because when we unpacked

my mother’s rabbit collection

he hid in the paper folds

he was nearly thrown away

after you left I would arrange them

across the mattress on the floor

where we both lay until you fell asleep

the sign of your falling asleep a snore

when snores stopped, you were gone
even asleep you moaned

& held me to keep me with you

when your grasp eased I could go

thrashing small child able to fill a bed

& now you sleep with none of us

steady breath, soft skin, body heat

now you’re there & I’m here

row of bunnies on your bed upstairs

Slothie seated against the pillows

today is the first day of fourth grade

you & Daddy will ride your bikes

you’ll tell him where he must turn around

you’ll arrive as you insist, alone

My Mother Looked Out in the Morning
by William Stafford

"Announced by an ax, Daniel Boone

opened the door" — the wild ones you told,
looking out from the timid person you were!

All was hard, clear sunlight, or else

dark shadow. You had never found
the way to live either one or the other,

But you always looked out, the fence

faithful, always to extend and
mean the understanding again,

And then the inner surprises,

the result of your wonder: a miracle! —
you were you, you were you, you were you.

Reversals live now, indoors and out,

where your children carry that house
and others, and are wise. You were simple —

Your stories ran wild: "Listen, Billy —
imagine the world. Make me real. Be my child."