✨ Dear Son
The frosting...
Dear Son
Do you remember the birthday cake
in the back of the black cab? The frosting
was turquoise, bright as waves of silk
unspooled by street vendors we sped past
in North Wembley. We were late
to a Manchester United game,
the tickets your surprise gift. I flicked
the lighter but could not summon a spark.
Our driver mumbled something in Urdu,
then double-parked alongside a corner store.
Moments later he returned, cupping
in his hands a single lit match. Breath held
and steps measured, he made his way
across an invisible balance beam. A decade
earlier, I had done the same. I kissed
each of your ten candles with the flame.
—Erin Murphy
✨ This poem is offered for our December theme: Light
From Fluent in Blue: Poems, Grayson Books, Copyright © 2024. Used by permission of the poet. Photo by nrd, Creative Commons, via Unsplash.