Inheritance

He’s five pounds of heat in a thin blue wrap,

falling asleep in my shaky lap.

I don't have a house or a dollar to lend,

just a long list of things I’m too tired to mend.

I watch the pulse in the side of his head.

A tiny clock under skin like red thread.

I’m afraid to move.

I’m afraid he’ll wake up and see

exactly what kind of person is holding him.