Tonight my son told me about his sadness
earlier in the day, while I was away from him
(working in another room that might as well have been fifty miles away).

He spied a picture of our dog
who died last spring
and his thoughts turned in on themselves,

curling like burning paper.
I could see it because we share that gene,
the chemical that makes a bright room dark,

a lovely moon
just a reminder that one day
we won’t be here to see it.

I kissed his soft little boy’s temple
and told him I was sorry
he felt sad,

all the while cursing
the part of me
that failed to protect him in the womb.