Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Mornings with Children

The troubled light of December, seven o’ clock

the clucking annoyance of the second hand

These are the stains that describe your breakfast

your mouths are hovering-harmonium-talk

Now that the light is so bitter and literal

we lose one battle; we win other wars

You are made of just ghee and molasses--

and pools of unhurried, inundant memoirs.


And after all that, Li'l A made off with a medal in the spelling bee today. Perhaps slow and steady does win the race :).


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