One Word
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

Bring forth what you can.
He considers nothing provincial.
Even with your head bowed he sees your tears.

Let him pick the muslin cloth of your life
from the thorn bush. It is his business to sew you
back together.

Every touch of his forehead
is a beckoning. The five words are one word: Come.
Lift your face, move closer. He is crying too.