12.My First Child
In her arms and in her heart
Lie its ten fingers and ten toes.
The baby is so soft
So soft that you can see
It will be that way
Even when full grown.
Her love for it- however - is hard:
Though this love is wrapped
In sun, in bubbles, in coos,
In cashmere & cuddles-
It is hard
Harder than stone.
So I watch her with the tiny thing
(all country water & cloudy eyes)
& see her love for it as a waste:
It's a love that would be better used
On something (or someone)
With more muscle, more fibre.
More backbone.
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