– for Rebecca Locke
She is five
the strongest person I know.
The dirt of the oldest mountain
has cracked beneath her feet.
I think of the blood pumping in her chest
all covered by her fragile skin
how it floods her body
so when she jumps
the clouds move
animals prick their ears.
My niece laughs for all that is good.
She tells me a story about my brother
and laughs (because he is good).
He was always the funny one
so clever on his feet.
In her I see my brother.
So I listen.
And she loves me for it.
And I love her for it too.
My brother like my mother
smiles and cries and cries while smiling
so I want to tell this five year old girl
that her life will be huge
she will feel to the point of overflow
and gush without shame daily,
and when she needs friends surrounding her
she will never be alone.
Instead I reach for her body.
We form a most natural fit
as if we are used to each other
having only met twice.
She thinks I am nice and I make her happy.
I think she is beyond belief.
Don’t want to let go.
It is more than my brother and my mother
and my niece wrapped in my arms;
it is one of those things you don’t forget.
The things that are especially good
because they cannot last.