Bob Hicok


I'm thinking I watched a man and his son
holding hands as they crossed a parking lot
last night, thinking I was moved
by the root or lifeboat or ladder
of the father's arm into the life of the son, the root
or labyrinth of his arm as they moved at the pace
of the child, whose walking still bore signs
of the womb, of being wobbly water and I wanted
to reverse my vasectomy on the spot
and have a child with the moon, I wish
there was a word that was the thing
it was the word of, that when I said sun
I could be sun, all of it
in my mouth, burning you might think
and be so marvelously right
about praise that you open your door
one day and the day walks in and stays for years