Alistair
With big brown eyes,
like a Labrador’s, he gazes up at me –
a male echo of my young self.
His impossibly little hands
enveloped in his tiny pockets –
a miniature man.
He talks away excitedly,
in his own hybrid language;
English with a hint of gobbledygook.
He goes to fetch something –
a sunshine yellow iPod toy.
Gleeful, he pushes its plastic button.
Out bursts music,
the Black-Eyed Peas,
“I gotta feeling.”
He explains to me the song’s meaning,
swaying the whole time,
how exactly to have a good night –
“You have a bath and you soak Daddy
and then you go to bed with Sookie
and kiss everyone goodnight.”
Confused by our laughter,
he naively smiles –
his baby teeth like glittering pearls.
Kirsty A. Niven is from Dundee, Scotland where she lives with her husband and cats. Her poetry has appeared in a number of places including Artificial Womb, The Dawntreader, Dundee Writes, Cicada Magazine and Laldy.
atriumpoetry.com 