Morning Song
       

I will button my shirt wrong.
The whole thing will be
lopsided, and I will walk
to school with one shoulder
higher than the other, like a leaning

tower of book-and-lunch bags.
At Cabrini Boulevard and 187th Street
the sidewalk will break into sparkles
like pins and needles—
and I will think of my father's feet

as he duck-walks to work.
Candy stores will be
opening the dark mouths
of their doors; proprietors will be
peering at the taxi-and-baby-carriage

swirl of the street—
and I will think of my father 's face
as he glares at his watch.
I will arrive at my desk always
late; my teacher will purse

her lips and tell me to button
my shirt right—and I will think
of my father's back as he bends
over his desk like someone
warming himself by a fire.

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Copyright © 2014 James Reiss All rights reserved
from The Novel
CW Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission