Cradle Song

By CODY WALKER

You’re just a baby,
And as such, may be
Susceptible to lies
(And wonder, and surprise):

Left is hither,
Hither is yon,
Santa Claus has a Santa mask on;
Right is backwards,
Backwards is broken;
Baby’s first words go unspoken:
You’re just a dad—
Spark-lit and sad—
And I’m you, in training,
And I’m gaining.

 

Cody Walker is the author of Shuffle and Breakdown. His work appears in Shenandoah, Parnassus, Slate, Subtropics, The Best American Poetry, The Yale Review, Light Quarterly, Poetry Northwest, and The Hecht Prize Anthology. Elected Seattle Poet Populist for 2007-2008, he lives in Ann Arbor and teaches English at the University of Michigan.

[Purchase your copy of Issue 02 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Cradle Song

Related Posts

Cover of Dear Mothership

August Poetry Feature

ELLEN HINSEY
Never forget: the Tyrant time reached others before you—they too weathered the deluge of its tempest-strewn path. For Tyranny always imagines it will write history. But, time and again, it is Justice that will arise, then bow down to write—the history of Tyranny’s demise, instead.

Headshot and Issue 31 cover

Podcast: Lauren Delapenha on “Supermarketing”

LAUREN DELAPENHA
Lauren Delapenha speaks to Emily Everett about her poems “Supermarketing” and “If You Are Learning English,” which appear in The Common’s spring issue. Lauren also discusses her process, her time at the Disquiet Literary Program in Lisbon, and balancing both teaching and writing.

July 2026 Poetry Feature

AMIYA MORETTA
Magnolia tree in the window, hammock, / a loop in hours, a cradle of light we swing inside, / naming what we’re afraid of. / In this version, he is from halfway around the world. / Some net caught the curve of us in the dark, / gathered what it could, his hand, my pulse.