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You are a boy
in bed
upstairs
You hear your parents lowing
beneath you
You know nothing of sex
but that you are a boy
and that there are girls
and that is that,
and your parents bark in unison.
You imagine them
on their knees
together in the hall
under the crucifix
Rosary in hand
praying as one
for you
for grandma and grandpa
for all the angels and saints
Amen.
You know nothing of
nuclear warfare,
nothing of starvation
or disease,
nothing of injustice
or terror,
only your Hail Marys
and Our Fathers
and sometimes almost all
of the Grace before dinner.
Your parents' murmuring purr
is stiffer and quicker
reaching a conclusion,
a peak,
an end to something good,
something that makes them happy
secure
insulated against the world together.
You feel the good
come up the stairs to you
and you too are secure
safe
as their voices chant somehow,
their voices slightly higher,
they are almost finished.
You smile,
jump from the bed smiling,
bolt to the stair smiling,
and catch your parents smiling
together
in the hall.
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