A child, I'd curl up small at night
in moonlight's brittle calm
and make believe I rested safe
within a giant palm.
This bell of muscle rings you round
as never fingers could
until the birthday when you come
to claim your personhood;
for now, this image speaks for you:
a snowflake hand outflung
proclaiming human, greeting us
in every human tongue.
No comments:
Post a Comment