Mouth running like mascara,
hair tucked securely in the past,
she reaches for me with dewdrop skin
though it’s still not safe
Rest now
He shifts in bed until his feet,
now thick with summer heat,
hang just out of reach like forgiveness
I plant his brittle spine
into a nest of pillows
like a baby bird and he squawks
Rest now
Wiping the lunch from his face,
I think of how we are all children
taking leaps of faith
even after science shows us
that clouds aren’t beds of cotton
Rest now
Fly later
7-9-20
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