Dianne Silvestri
For My Son About to Become a Father
One birthday before you stood taller
than I, I gave you a telescope, fawn
legs hinged, black nose and an eye,
assembly instructions folded in the box.
Twice we coaxed it out to the driveway,
aimed the barrel skyward, twisted
the eyepiece, squinted, gasped at Mars,
Venus, orbs so shy they flew from view.
Today that dusty derrick on stilts bows
in your old bedroom, a gift you never
begged for. I longed for you to probe
the heavens, find the universe amazing.
Now I hope you will carry away
that tender scaffold to the new nursery
so your son can reel in stars.
Dianne Silvestri is a poet, mother of four, grandmother of nine, and physician whose poems have appeared widely, including JAMA, The Healing Muse, Evening Street Review, and Barrow Street. Her chapbook Necessary Sentiments was published in 2015. Survival of life-threatening illness led to her book, But I Still Have My Fingerprints, published by CavanKerry Press in 2022. Since retirement, she continues to advocate for medical humanities through speaking and teaching. www.diannesilvestri.com.