The ghost of Saint Jack
was standing in a corner of the nursery
Marveling at the sight of the geriatric Cormac
Holding his newborn son
The aged traveler with his gnarled stoneworkers' hands
Gently cradled the little cherub
Singing a Spanish lullaby
in a coarse soft voice
Kerouac smiled a wraith's smile to himself
As he reflexively translated
The Mediterranean Spanish
into his mother's Quebecois French
Unseen and unheard Duluoz recited an old prayer
Blessing the birth of a child
born to one in the autumn of life
As kindred lapsed Catholics often do
Charles, as his mother knew him
started to mouth the same words
As if he could hear the chanting
of the specter in the corner
As if he could feel the glow from his ethereal smile.
Mantengo mi hijo
sano y ayudar a que
crezca sana
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