With a Coat
I was cold and leaned against the big oak tree
as if it were my mother wearing a rough apron
of bark, her upraised arms warning of danger.
Through those boughs and leaves I saw
dark patches of sky. I thought a brooding
witch waited to catch me up from under
branches and take me, careening on her broom,
to her home in the jaundiced moon.
I looked to the roof of mom and dad's house
and wondered if the paisley couch patterns
would change during the day. My brother peeked
from a window and waved. When the bus came,
I pawed away from the trunk, fumbled,
and took my first step toward not returning.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2016 by Dante Di Stefano, "With a Coat," from Love is a Stone Endlessly in Flight, (Brighthorse Books, 2016). Poem reprinted by permission of Dante Di Stefano and the publisher.