The Children and Other Poems


The Children

One’s a little heart
palpitation
Nobody knows it but me

One’s a willow
whip with its leaves shorn off
I call it Rosemary


One’s a pirate princess priest
a Look at the horses
curled under the diving board


Paisleys and hexagons each
has a point
to make


Heat
across my shoulder
just under the chin


When they say
We never asked to be born
they mean it sincerely


They mean Look
we are the horizon


How will you punish us
How will you tuck us in
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