My Sick Little Boy

My sick boy.
Sick before that day,
Confessing your father's sins.
On my stoop in the city.

Before you found me.
From across the room.
And asked me to explain.

All I could say:
What have they done to your head?
Already so sick.

Long before I loved you.
For nothing besides singing.
And that damage to your head.
My sick little boy.