sucker

the moist morning air

turned her cherry lollipop

into flypaper

now peppered with dust,

fragments of leaves, curly hairs,

and other such filth

she holds it like a

scepter, parting the masses

on our holy stroll

lesson learned

fun is zero sum,
he says.  last night was great, so
today's gotta suck.

mothers and daughters

the words fall out of
my mouth, rocks plopping heavy
into dark water.

they sink deeper and
and deeper, but we know they're
below the surface,

even when it's still.
she will never say these things
to me, i'm perfect.

but this is a wish,
not a promise.  someday the
tape will play again,

the rocks will plop and
the water will ripple, and
i'll have to listen.

pretend

Her hand creeps through the
window, a starfish inching
along the remains

of a sunken ship.
From behind the wall, I hear
her chitter-chatter,

melodic and hushed,

as she drifts off deeper and
deeper into play.

feed me seymour

there are two types of
toddler hunger -- that for food
and that for crackers

harmonica

with each draw and blow

her belly heaves -- she sways with
her music and smiles.

'where Mama earring ?'

she gingerly taps
my ear with a touch so soft
it makes my hair stand

camel on the ceiling (or what we say, part 2)

Big Wing, little wing.
What begins with wing ?
Chicken wing on a string,
wing, wing, wing.

Fyrn says, (a near-perfect paraphrase)

"last night I was so
sad ... so sad for no reason.
then I thought of her --

that smile and those eyes --
and for a few sweet moments
I was filled with joy."

lest she stirs

the giant sleeps in
a booby-trapped lair; one false move --
the stub of a toe

the drop of a pin
the creak of a loose floor board --
and i'm good as dead.

a thousand deaths

her finger unfurls
to a point, and she coyly
sings 'mama' -- at last.

'wow, she's quite a talker.'

"COCK COCK COCK !" she screams
pointing to the clock in the
nail salon. "COCK. COCK."

we welcome spring

her hair flicks forward

with the breeze and the bob of 

her head as she swings

good game, high five.

the biting game is

where i nibble your arm and

you shriek with delight

she always wakes up in a sweat

a dream, any dream,
is so stunningly vivid --
colors, sounds, shapes, words

we all need a break

the perfect day she
had without me is the thought
that sings me to sleep.

when she concentrates

a silver string of

saliva unravels from

her lip gently as

a spider descends

or silken gossemer pulls

or icicle melts

ancient grains

golden, flaxen, wheat --
whatever we call that hair
of yours, it's lovely.

when they come from a baby

kisses start with a

'mmmmm!' and usually end 

with an open mouth

what we say

i love you when you're happy,
and i love you when you're sad;
i love you when you're smiling,
and i love you when you're mad.

it still aches

a certain silence
creeps in between blinks; growing
like ink drip drip drip

dripping on muslin.
the sound of your cry fades in
and out, but my heart ...

te chatouilles

a single green blade
plucked from the ground and tickled
sous le bout du nez

time machine

today we had a

fleeting minute during which

we both forgot you.

he bit his candy

in half, and I took it with my

teeth --  that's when it was.

when i took the mint, 

our lips met, and i slipped just a

little bit of tongue

the way i used to

ten years ago with sweet tarts,

waiting for the train.

aujourd'hui

today my big girl

had her first big fall; somehow

i handled it well.

these are just the facts.

you watch her tear-stained

blotchy face and look at me

like i'm some lost cause.

'big mistake,' you think.

'how could she?'  you think, and then

you excuse yourself.

and i'm left alone

with my child for a moment

while you duck away.

i want you to know

that in that moment -- when you

thought i was annoyed,

tired, and beaten,

i was loving her more than

i've ever liked you.

little lady

chubby little hands
clap with glee at my expense
-- the child tyrant reigns.

little thrills

it's the little thrills
that this bird likes.  balancing
on one leg in socks.

the split seconds of
weightlessness after she's been
tossed up from my hands.

that moment of pure,
white fear that splashes across
my face when she chokes --

how she laughs and laughs
after i've smacked her back twice,
while i'm left breathless.

that sound you make when you're happy

it's somewhere between
excited chitter chatter
and 'tick-a tick-a'.

powerful magic

the angels gave us

a baby.  a good baby,

a quiet baby.

when she sighed, we sighed,

and all was right because we 

now knew perfection.

but the goblin king

stole her, and left us with you

in the baby's stead.

a heathen, wild with

laughter and song,  breath sweeter
than opium, and

eyes the color of
nebulae, striking me down
with only a blink.