Small, so


“Flowers resembles beauty / less than our breathing.” –e.e. cummings.

Small, so
small. As a billowed breeze
against this morning
face, you are the missing,

And, so soon,
you are ready.
Red fists from the placenta now
beat at the made-warm air:
It is only life when you
take it under your ribs;
only genuine now that you
discover it.

Your eyes precisely
unfold the new light.
I spread myself against it and
wait to be found.
The line sweeping my palm
accepts your
five-fingered blessing:

There will never be nothing again.

[for Zachary Aimé Griffin Abraham, January 8, 1997]

3 thoughts on “Small, so

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