JUKE
.png)
JOINT
The Grand Child
At bedtime, we lay side-by-side in a tangle
of sheets thick as brambles, our warmth
trapped in the folds and creases that eclipse
the rhythms of breath. The weight of my hand
upon your tiny chest seems an undue burden
of love that you push and pull, unknowningly,
with each shallow draw of air. And with each
passing year this tide erodes the intimacy
between us until, at last, this ripened fruit
drops away from the vine and goes to seed.
Training Wheels
Mom and I rode endlessly,
or so it seemed at the time,
along the paths running parallel
to the rushing creek as if persuaded
by the current. Around the bends
I would teeter, a training wheel lifting
dangerously toward the sky. Now,
I pedal cautiously behind my own boy,
his legs pumping furiously, petitioning
his tiny wheels to spin faster. “Slow down!”
we urge from the broadening distance,
while our kids, deaf to the consequences,
hurl themselves into the future, unknown.
- Deja Samuel
Matthew Schultz teaches Creative Writing at Vassar College where he also directs the Writing Center. He is the author of two novels––On Coventry (2015) and We, The Wanted (2021). Matt drank black coffee for breakfast before taking his Great Dane for a walk. Currently, he is jamming a couple of Allman Brothers tunes on bass while his son plays the drums. His wife just asked, "What we should do about dinner?" He doesn't know.