Prophecy

My parents have come home laughing,
a daring sound on my careworn ears.
Instead of the breeze of her yawn,
the thunder and rain of his keys
on the counter, his feet on the floor,
there is a soft tap on a taut drum,
a clinking together of glasses.

Their laughter is a prophecy fulfilled,
a secret kept too long, then shared
in the middle of my own years thick
with the dreadful magic of children
too close together. Years of remembering
what love looked like once –
a strong but youthful birch in spring –
and how I danced in the waves.

They walk into the kitchen
where I am alone, waiting.
Catch themselves a moment,
hot cheeks and eyes singing,
then laugh, and laugh again, and I

have waited my whole life for this.



Poet's note: A poem about how other people's happiness can remind us of, can foretell, our own future happiness, when things feel bleak.