Saturday, April 13, 2013

A silver string.

when she concentrates 
a silver string of
saliva unravels from
her lip gently as
a spider descends 
or silken gossemer pulls
or icicle melts
by 17 Beats. 

I've written before about 17 Beats and how the tiny little poems she writes make actual physical things happen to my body. Her current work is taking me right back to when the girls were smaller and it's making my heart swell and my ovaries ache.

*Puke, aged 18 months-ish. She was such a very serious baby and is now such a very ridiculous toddler. (I couldn't find a better drool photo, not at 8am on a Saturday morning.)