Jackson peeked around the corner
To make sure he was alone
He slowly opened his secret drawer
Of choke-able toys:
Cat-eyed balls, quarters, tiny lego pieces, razor heads
To name a few
His brown complexion
now turning blue,
unable to breathe.
He just wanted to see
what they would feel like.
Everyone save my mom was getting ready for bed
Even if they were downstairs, they wouldn’t have heard him
Struggling for breath over his blaring ABC songs.
What if she hadn’t stepped away
from her soapy sink filled with left over lasagna no one wanted in time?
And now every time I walk in my mom’s room
instead of seeing our dark cedar wood piano
I see Jackson
Ignoring everyone’s panic,
His Autism making him unaware of safety
I refuse to take my eyes off him
for fear of history repeating itself
It tends to do that,
I’m so thankful I wasn’t there
I certainly would’ve died.