[small]

Small hands and tiny eyebrows resting over sweet skin, pink cheeks and cornsilk for hair
as they sleep and breath and exhale a sweet scent that I have breathed since it was inside me.
I made that scent from my blood and milk.
They are like honey to me honey filled still with bees that warm and sting,
that fly by my head and remind me of love and health and
my body a living sculpture growing life
which now grows me.

-jg

[share]

who can do this? what is too much/too little? i want what's mine. and then some. i've learned that children are incapable, really, of doing this. i've learned that i can close like a frozen flower/mistakenly weeded out/dessicated petals/roots still buried under the fertile earth/hidden by leaves. roots entwined with big towering trees/not quite choking me off. my share my offering is rust/ashes from my father's funeral pyre/love songs/my simple intentions/a daily prayer only i ever see/the portion of/the piece of pie/the creation of the whole/holy/slash/burn/divided words/broken into puzzle pieces, my mind and heart/the missing feathers of a cowbird/a contribution that cannot be measured by any means/God's means/release from suffering in a small gesture, a mother's fingertips in his hair