Two Poems
Poetry by Brad Buchanan
The Telling
the truth of things
is in the telling
so when we sit
our children down
(separately
since they are so different)
we may avoid certain
deadly words
only warn them
that I will feel tired
sometimes after my medicine
for up to two days
not quite the man
they have gotten used to
ready to throw down
with mock-ferocity
even at six o’clock
in the morning
instead I will claim
a sinister gentleness
my rightful weakness
we will expect them
to understand
that this is not
the same as dying
which is another word
we won’t utter
as long as they don’t
ask the wrong questions
they need never
come to terms
with mortality
until it happens
and our betrayals
are at an end
The Accomplice
joined in bed
by my elder daughter
whose heart beats like
a cornered squirrel’s
even when she is
still half-asleep
I rededicate myself
to rest
though the last dream
is gone
and the soft light
strengthens
its hold on the ceiling
it is technically morning
and I would neither
send her away
back to her own bed
nor order her
into activity
so we lie together
already survivors
of the no-longer-a-secret
secret that
she keeps and shares
with three friends
every day
’til she runs out
of fears