my little girl was a book in a war
her daddy had need of horses and wine
signed, first edition, full-paged, top-edge gilt (funny), unread and shelved for ten thousand nine hundred days
the sun pivots in full grace; a gasp,
a flood. A book in a war, I stop
havocing me. The green jewel
nested in me howls,
barefoot on the wood, liberated
from its own dust
from the shelf to the world,
a ripened fledging,
She hatched, and hatched,
And hatched.