Twelve winters ago the ice rain fell
sideways on our way to the ultrasound
we saw our son nesting in shadows and static
at the corner of the screen
then a woman in blue crying like the
Virgin Mary on the subway
this is all I want to preserve
of that winter not my therapist
or the nutritionist the milkshakes
to put weight back on
though it was a gift that weight
a gift to eat for my son
who would be born in summer
a gift to rise when it was still cold and dark
and tell myself at each new meal
a half a father is not yet a father