from The Light Tears Loose
If blue is dream / what then innocence? —Federico García Lorca
It is the laughter of your three-year-old
neighbor when you sail soapy bubbles,
her fingers reaching
for the drifting moons
It’s the adoration in your dog’s eyes
when you nuzzle close and stroke his ears
even when shoe leather scatters the hallway
Your son’s trust
when you subtract the training wheels,
when you run behind him
as he cycles away
It’s your mother, losing her words
and her way, letting you lead her back
to the white-walled room, tuck her into bed
Iridescent, transparent,
reflective — the world balanced
on a quivering wand, forming
with your breath
