53
1
Substantial and sanguine, a portion of the world is seen.
Face backwards, there is no gleam.
Except for
the radiance and luster within her miniature face.
2
Illuminating a gray room, dim with dread.
A sweet mobile hangs from the ceiling, encouraging beautiful thoughts.
Linking the maternal instinct everyone possesses
in the presence of a child, with a portal to the man made world.
Now every child can look at the dangerous world outside their window
with shining, unfilled, starched eyes. A vessel in which lies a translucent
shield.
3
And when that baby grows up she’ll be,
crowded and surrounded,
stacked on top of hundreds of other un-inhabited building blocks.
All indoor fluorescents shine brightly becoming the only stars of the
city
because when the sun goes down, there is no moon tonight baby girl.
By the end of this massacre, we are always staring at someone else’s
light.