Award winner in the 2012 MMS Creative Writing Exposition
By Sarathchandra Reddy, M.D.
My son has just finished listening
to his favorite bedtime story once
again- asks the same questions,
accepts the same answers,
falls asleep comfortably
in predictable endings.
He dreams of being that slayer
of black dragons, a prince on a white horse,
a universe light years from
my world of in-betweens.
He declares he will be
just like me one day riding off into the night,
masquerading as God in a white coat.
How long will it be before he discovers
I have saved
no one? only pushed off the inevitable
to the next shift.
I teach him we can keep things in motion
for only so long
before they come to rest-
that is the nature of the body
and other worldly things.
The spinning top slows, stumbles.
Each bounce of a ball shallows in succession.
The bicycle tilts when the peddling
has stopped.
And when I have exhausted my pills and potions,
all that remain are pre-packaged
condolences then -
awkward silence.
But I vow to keep his fantasy alive
an extra minute
let his head sink deeper into the pillow,
settle into his kingdom,
eyelids quivering
as he prepares to battle the dragon
and save his world
from us.
