Pete the Cop
The bars, the bars,
bars to the left, bars to
the right, and front to
back – then there was
a silent stream of light,
light which filtered
through a slight crack
in the doorway. Light
from the kitchen.
God – God he always
stared at me, always
watched – four inches
by four inches on the wall
above my wooden bars.
My older brother only
a few feet away lay awake
holding Pete The Cop.
Why didn’t I have a friend
in the crib?
But, I had God –
he glowed in the dark.
At night God watched us play
“Iron Curtain.”
After all those hugs and kisses,
tucked in sheets –
flat now.
Flat.
Flat.
Flat.
I turned my head toward my
brother and said, “It’s time.”
Heard the radiator hiss as my
brother crept out of bed leaving
Pete – he placed his blanket
over the wooden bar.
Now, on my knees.
little knees – little, little knees,
in a whisper, I looked into
my brother’s eyes –
“Iron Curtain Going Up.”
He pulled his end of the blanket.
“Come on, come on before
I will lose my turn.” Hurry, the
door will open and dark
figures will cut through a
beam of light – feet will make
strange sounds on the linoleum.
Broad shoulders, footsteps and
sand papered feet.
“They will hide Daddy’s
Navy Blanket.” I told him.
“Iron Curtain Going Down.”
Was it the crack in the door,
or stream of light, perhaps God who
scared me? I am sure it was not
Pete The Cop – but yes, a hug
from Pete would have felt so good.
Nancy Duci Denofio (C) 2011 updated.
