Merlin and the Boy

He is writing now
Things I did not put there,
with sleight of hand
Magic that I did not put there.
I put lullabies and love and storybooks
I put pots and pans and building blocks
I put yelling and spankings
Frustration and moments to regret
I put disorganization and depression
Anger and constant marital strife
I put tea parties and Santa Lucia mornings
I put snowmen and treasure hunts
I put looking into tidal pools
I put autumn leaves under wax paper
and posters of whales and sharks
I put throwing him on the bed once
I put forgetting he was hungry
I put apathetic immobilization
I put curses screamed at God
I put holiday traditions and broken promises
I put two sisters and a divorce
So many things I put
I have lost count of
Through time or on purpose
I put all these things and more
And not once did any of it ever spill out
And escape
Lately I wonder
How it happened that
All that history
Pinned to his soul like insects in a box
Has apparently transformed over time
to become poetry made of gold.
Strange alchemy indeed.