I watch my son alone in waking death,
Forever tethered to the corner chair;
A stroke had locked me in, but spared my breath,
My fatherhood reduced to vacant stares.

I watch his fingers crawl across the braille,
He reads aloud a tale I wrote for him,
He cannot see my pride as I exhale,
Nor loving blood that courses through my limbs.

I watch his mother lead him by the hand;
Beleaguered saint, she cares for crippled we;
In solitude, I seek to understand
My ghostly place for he who cannot see.

But as I watched, a man was watching too,
So patiently he played at peak-a-boo.

I watch a stranger leading him to bed,
A man with smiling eyes that give a wink,
“Your mommy will return, it’s like I said;
For now, a bedtime story, I should think.”

I watch him watching Teddy as he sleeps,
His shirt, a bloody canvas yet unknown,
And round and round the bed this stranger creeps,
While silently I mourn my wife alone.

I watch the way he tousles Teddy’s curls,
My mind a riot when he pecks his cheek;
I shiver at his grin, a slice of pearls
And helplessly I watch but cannot speak.

And as I watched he whispered in my ear,
“You’ll watch it all; for now I’ll watch your fear.”

I watch him as he finger paints the walls;
A clotted shade of crimson from my wife;
Upon his strokes a dreadful message falls:
ALL LITTLE BOYS AЯE ANGELS AFTEЯ LIFE.

I watch his giddy fingers as they roam
Or standing in the corner after dark;
So long I’ve been unmanned in my own home,
So deep my helpless family feels his mark.

I watch as Teddy takes him by the arm,
The stranger looks my way and blows a kiss;
There was a time I sheltered him from harm,
Now all my once made dreams have come to this.

I hear a whimper, then a frightened yelp;
I hear my son scream, “Help me, Daddy!

“HELP!”