Sleep Over
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Poem
My nephew turned five
and asked me to sleep over
the other day.
We’d spent most of it together:
going for dim sum,
then a puppet show,
kicking the Hover Ball,
building
Magformers,
wrestling, and
fixing our eyes on two episodes
of Penguins
of Madagascar.
He blocked the door
when I said I couldn’t,
and tried to leave;
his face tearful
and aware of the shame in pleading.
Or
was he reflecting my shame
in being
first
to teach him distance?
Photograph by Alex Jones
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