To Clement….


You are perfect babyness.
You make hums and grunts in your sleep, rhythmic with your flower-breaths.
You’re happiest when your head is pressed just below my collarbone, your chin tucked and your eyes quiet.
The hair on your head is feathery.
Softness is your check.
Your eyebrows are worried when you’re hungry or winded, and every piece of me collects together in a movement driven to soothe them.


You make me a mother.
Glowing, gentle, tired, sagging, slow, fulfilled.