Wednesday, August 26, 2020

First School Day

I mean to write of pomegranates 

and roses in fairytales, how even

the pierce of your stare is a star.


You my child, have been puppies, tigers,

bees, snakes, and a praying mantis. You

say, today's animal: "sickly Victorian boy."


So pearlescent with scattered energy

stay stationed in understories of care 

and humming to the surface, beyond


yes--the press of your face on my shoulder

but holding fast like the ink-paint-print-stain 

koans growing on your arms for years. 

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