“And the children are all armed with knives”
His hands are empty as he emerges.
There is no place to hide such a weapon.
His head will crane backwards
unless you support it.
his own fingers will suckle him;
still silent in your arms,
no longer content with passive nourishment.
As he grows places to hide,
his head will stand and swivel
on its own,
his eyes darting for danger
before settling again
will keep you away.