A fog of night air wreathed in fireflies
laced with the nameless wings of song
only a parent's lips recall
your mother sings of the space in her arms,
that only ever fit you so
your father tells you stories to lift you in the air,
twirling your laughter into the sunlight
hummed where words fell on the floor,
small, hot tattering breaths
before sleep
where silence rolls in,
a thick tide of brutal moments
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
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