Divorce and Custody

Her long slender hands raised like a gun barrel,
I could see the dragon that coiled around her arms
as she thundered accusations at me with her finger
pointing; some hit some miss -

just like a beautiful blunderbuss is all I could think
as my heart bled painting the scene of my child's hand
waving goodbye; taken away by the one who shot me,
in front of the blind law.

Sweater

In the dim light, the watchful eyes follow,
as the needle swims across the fabric,
in and out, up and down, in and out, up and down,

matching the slow rhythm of the frail hands,
creating a pattern as the yarn unfolds
a snapshot of the grandchild in her mind

wearing the sweater; untired, but fazed
only by the slow ticking of the clock -
the winter could not come any slower.