Two Poems by Fallon Chiasson

Relocation: I

I went out for coffee this morning. You were still asleep. I thought about running away. Where would I go, in this new town? A town that is now our home. I love this new town. I love you. I want to run away. I go to Dunkin Donuts. There are none of those in our old town. I paid and forgot our order. I paid and walked out the door. I missed the turn for home. I’ve never missed that turn before. I went to our new home in our new town. Empty handed. You were still asleep.

For Edward

I got a godchild for Christmas. I was hoping for a quilt. One for me to swaddle, one for me to wrap, like not-my-quilt could have to me. I first held him on his baptismal day. Swaddled in a hand-me-down gown, he wrapped his baby hand around my adult finger. I felt his heartbeat.

Or maybe it was my own.