Who sits in my car and tells me
he’s not afraid; twelve now
he tells me all this friends’ parents
are divorced,
and I think how ferociously he played soccer
today, and suddenly I am afraid. 
I don’t want it to happen, for
the coming days of my absence
to become a lost language. 
            Caleb, listen, I remember nights
standing by your bed before sleep,
before you even knew I was possible,
and I knew for the second time
I was not alone.  And I remember you
on the slopes, skiing, when you
bending far down into a tuck
as we raced for the bottom, laughed
out loud in the gathering speed.
And giving into it, I went with you,
leaning into the wind.
            I will never let you go
out of my life.  Listen, Caleb,
just as it was that day,
skiing down the mountain,
even in full flight
a way always opens at our feet.