whatever god you shook the hand of is laughing in his chair as you're sitting in mine.
I.
without fear,
without
i recognize
you take up so little of the doorframe
namely, the same
as me- your little arms
as you descend, i'll remember
your pendant, i promise
the red dust will love me
as it must
II.
without leave
i scatter death from my bed
all over this black land
without grievance
i will gather myself
and hold your iron hand
but not without feeling
will i let you run,
between my fingers like fine white sand.
III.
When you return, I will show you my clean bed
with great pride.
I can hide nothing
with your tiny brown eyes
so near mine.
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