Two Guys on the Sofa

Two guys on the sofa
in the late afternoon—
the small one sleeping
contentedly in the arms
of the big one, both
embraced in the silent
wonderment of it all.

The sleeper is my new
grandson, Isaiah Leo, six
days old this morning.
His Mom and Dad are
collapsed in their bedroom
while his grandmother rests
in the guest room. Everyone
has worn each other out.

I’m the lone (and delighted)
sentinel, here in the quiet
living room, safeguarding this
precious bundle of fleshy vitality.

If he fusses, I’ve been
instructed to deploy first
the old finger-as-pacifier trick,
then fall back to
the change-the-diaper tactic
and, as a last resort,
to wake my daughter
to enact the ancient
and essential way:
baby-roots-and-eats-
at-his-mother’s-breast.

But for now, he sleeps
quietly playing his part
to oblivious perfection.

Isaiah Leo – welcome
to this world. I am
amazed that you are here—
that you have come
from some unimaginable
place and are now
alive and wriggling in
your sleep in my lap.

Who formed your limbs? Who
taught your heart to beat
and your lungs to breathe?
I ponder these unanswerable
questions which are perfectly
answered by the undeniable
weight and warmth of your
small body in my lap—by
the very particular aliveness of you!

Your passing expressions
are endlessly fascinating.
You open your mouth
and stick out your tongue—
I laugh in amazement.
Your perfectly articulate
sleeping hands are a supple
miracle beyond comprehension.

What shall I do with
my joy and astonishment?

For now, you and I will simply
stay here on the couch
as this quiet room darkens
and everyone else sleeps.