NIGHTLIGHT, a celebration
3:30 am—brother born, & the air in the house shifts
like a pedaled drum. I touch his hair,
his skin, & remember your similar textures,
the softness. How your eyes, like his, looked to me
in adoration—looked to me & saw Mother,
First Love, Captain of this ship sailing somewhere
into the sea. How things have changed
as you’ve grown—how things will change
for him. In the dark, I hold you, sleeping & close, &
breathe you in.
You are the growing cotton in the field. The seed
& the earth. The rock, the bed, the snow.
You are the fire in the man-groves.
