The Children and Other Poems

The Children

One’s a little heart
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

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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