My Oldest Son

my oldest son stretches three and a half inches over
my graying head and looks
down on me
most of the time
because nearly sixteen is nearly knowing nearly everything
and I do not

at his birth he was named for a religion we’d abandon
a hospital called grace
a quickened pace towards finishing
some race outside of the time
allotted the
rounds and the lines

I never expected to be old by thirty five

when he turns sixteen I expect he’ll take the world
by storm and fury
with a softness of kindness up around the
eyes that mirror mine
I think he’ll
outdo me

When the world is ending he’s dancing in the kitchen
big furry slippers on fast moving feet
and he is laughing to lyrics
from Lil J Peep or Baby Meek
always just a little
over me

over my graying head and over my losing streak
in isolation he reminds me to reach and to…