they say it happens when their tiny translucent fingers
find and curl around one of yours so much larger that
your doubtful heartful of love begins melting inside out
while your face shifts, your smile feels enormous forever
frozen in that one moment, to repeat over and over
more times than you can imagine as this small
half of you grows up and away but never too far
although they believe there is a separation
it's all an illusion, we store the seconds, the thirds
in our brains like the broken jewels they are
who needs necklaces or bracelets with charms
coffee cups with Mom or Dad written too large
when children can sparkle or wear you down
just as easily in an instant, even grown ?
(my father warned me long ago but I didn't believe
him, what did he know of love?) That's what
I thought, despite knowing they had lost seven
the remaining five of us barely protected or
so we all felt, back when there were rules
back when my mother's hair had no white
back when we were told babies come down
from the clouds of Baby Heaven in pale blue
or pink, sometimes to stay with us in a bassinet
recorded in faded photographs, my mother pale
my father not in the picture but taking them
mostly at Christmas or Easter, none of us
ever look comfortable or happy with outdated
coats and hats askew, white gloves for
church where God lives and loves us all