Inherit your childhood
from the photo album.
Transfer the silence
that expands and contracts
like a flock of birds in flight.
Hold in your hands
the irregular snowball
and the drops that run
down the line of life.
Say the prayer
through sealed lips—
the words are seeds falling into a flowerpot.
Silence is learned in the womb.
Try to be born
like the big hand after midnight
and the seconds will overtake you at once.