poem

 Helium's Comet

1

The day you turned two you let go

Of your giant helium birthday balloon

Just because you liked 

To watch it dart and flutter.

But it had a mind of its own,

Flittering just beyond your grasp

And then up, slaloming gnarled 

Limbs of the old oak tree

At the house where you first lived,

Then breaking free into the deep blue

And higher and higher

As if scampering home 

To live amongst wispy white clouds.

You stretched your little fingers

As high as you could 

And you cried and cried 

And all I could do

Was crouch to hold you 

And whisper of the wispy clouds 

As we watched it vanish 

In the haze of vastness

That dissolves even the stars

2

15 years flashes by like Tucson lightning 

Briefly fracturing the hooded 

Monsoon-season evening sky.

Something changes when it happens

That no one has ever defined

And all that’s left is the faint whiff

Of ozone burning

And the rapidly fading residue

Of all the intricate patterns

We’ve forever left behind 

3

I’m in clinic again, an old patient

I haven’t seen in years

Regaling me with tales 

Of counterfeit coupons and broken faucets

When I suddenly see it drifting by in the window

Over the old woman’s shoulder—

A golden #2 balloon!

Similar to the one we lost so long ago

When you were my baby girl

And I was a lot less gray.

All I wanted to do was call you,

To tell you I saw it, so many years

Since we had both stopped looking.

There it was, appearing like a comet

Making its incalculable cosmic rounds,

Still, after all this time 

Just beyond my reach 

4

Well, that’s the way it goes, honey.

I’m afraid we’ll never catch it.

Some things you only get to hold once

And then they're gone. 

Maybe not now, but someday

When thunder clears its throat from distance  

You’ll search the skies

And see it for yourself

8/16/26