PETE THE COP

PETE the COP


The bars, the bars -
bars to the left, right,
front and back, then
there was that silent
stream of light
which filtered through
a slight crack in the
doorway - light,
from the kitchen.

God.
God he always stared at me,
always watched.
Four inches by four inches
on the wall above those wooden bars.

My brother two feet away
lay awake with Pete The Cop.
Why didn't I have a friend
in the crib?
But,
I had God -
he glowed in the dark.

At night God watched us play
iron curtain,
after all those hugs and kisses,
tucked in sheets...
Flat now.
Flat.
Flat.
Flat.
Turning my head and staring
toward my brother, “It's time.”

Heard the hiss from the
radiator, as he placed an old
navy blanket on the wooden
rail...
Now on my knees -
Little knees
Little hands
Little feet
Ears close to the rail
brother whispered,
"Iron Curtain Going Down."
pulling his side of the blanket.

“My turn, hurry - I want my turn.”
I whispered, knowing a crack will
enlarge, a bright light shine through
our bedroom door –

dark figures with broad shoulders,
and sand paper feet will stand
near the crib.

"Iron Curtain Going Down."

Was it the crack in the door
or God who scared me?
I'm sure it wasn't Pete the Cop...
but yes – yes -
a hug from Pete
would have felt so good.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved
Editor - PORTRY IS LIFE
http://poetry.limitededitionspress.com
conference call - free
check All Things Publishing on facebook