STEAL
Last night I dreamed I held
a lost and rescued infant
from a kidnapper. The boy was silent.
His face a blank field. How I called
and called into his upturned face,
I’m here, I’m here. I don’t remember
his name and barely could make out
his features: the eyes, nose, and cheeks
seemed dented and muffled like
his lack of sound; but somehow I knew
he is my son, or daughter,
and he is, or she is, all the times
I am there, or not there:
all the times I do not and did not
listen. All the times I steal myself away.
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LISA ALEXANDER BARON is the author of four poetry collections, including While She Poses (Aldrich Press, 2015), prompted by visual art. Her poems appear in Chautauqua, Confrontation, Fourth River, Potomac Review, and Philadelphia Stories. She is an MFA in Poetry graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts, and teaches advocacy in writing and speech at Lehigh County Community College and La Salle University in Philadelphia.
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Read more by Lisa Alexander Baron:
A poem in The Voices Project
A poem in Cha