Bleed Into My Boy 

 

 

This is my son

I draw him a bit darker today

 

I press hard on the pen

and feel the weight
and watch the ink

 

bleed into my boy

 

I draw him

and I press hard

because I think on him

 

I love on him every day

 

I watch the ink

play through his hair

dripping into tiny locs

 

dreaded

 

What is this

my fair son twelve and bigger each day

 

I can feel a new firmness in his back

when we wrestle

 

I think on this sketch

this darker sketch

of my boy carried into our lighter town

 

he’s chasing a friend across a neighbors yard

 

How hard do I

press the pen

before my boy is a threat

and not a friend