Mistakes I Have Made

By Susanna Childress

I used to sing to the windows
of my father’s
failing truck alongside
the peat-bog-voice of Van Morrison
a sweet philosophic jumble
I never have parsed out. My father,
steady as a flume, touched my arm
once and corrected me: the question
isn’t “What’s the sound
of one man clapping?” but one hand,
and even then I sang, bright
with defiance, didn’t (want to) get it, how
could I, hounded by this one man
clapping—so grand,
really, astounding—some guy
in a hooded Celtics sweatshirt standing
out in the street, in the aisles
of an empty chapel, ten acres of tobacco,
a grocery mart, a fire escape, clapping,
clapping, clapping, clapping.

---

Originally published by Every Day Poems.

Under This Roof

By Susanna Childress

My brother
has come to live with us
and how could we know
how deliberate
his hands
would be: at the sink,
thawing beans
stringy from too hot a June,
smoothing hairs
that whisper about
my sons’ ears, locking the door
against the snow. His hands
move slow as a dream, the kind
where no one watches out
for you as you slip over
the edge and sprawl
wordlessly down mountains
of air or time or floors
of people doing ordinary things
like switching on a lamp
or thumbing coins
in a pocket or typing out
a dissertation on the circus
which is the only thing my brother
feels proud about doing
in his whole holy life
—and here he is, living
in our basement
and looking at me
over waffles
as though I have given him
something
to be grateful for.

---

Originally published by fugue. See more at http://www.fuguejournal.com. 

---

When At Night Zane Says His Prayers

By Susanna Childress

The neighbor boy has cancer, has a fifty-fifty

chance, has taught my son how to play Wii, has spoken

of heaven, has planted four beans, has relapsed,

has used the word aspirate correctly in a sentence, has fallen

in love with our dogs which he is timid to admit

since his own dogs are nearly as lovable, has grown

his hair back, has mentioned Jésus, too, has cancer

and gave him a Hello Kitty sticker yesterday

at hemoc—hematology/oncology, has transformed

legos into a pixilated basket of fruit, has blown up

a balloon and tied it to himself with a string, has beaten

the highest score in Rubble Trouble, has relapsed,

has built a fort with my son featuring moat,

back door, and windows, all out of snow, has prayed

for Jésus and also Ben and also Tara and also Cameron

and also for my son, who does not have cancer

but a stomach virus which kept him from playing

Sidewalk Chalk and for which this kid remembers to lift

the syllables of my son’s name from his tongue to God,

like Pop Rocks, blueberry-blue, crackling, loud,

my son’s name in that boy’s open, irreducible mouth.

________________________________________________________________

This appeared on Antler, http://thisisantler.com/2012/04/interview-susanna-childress/.

Follow the link to read a previous interview with Susanna Childress.

---