February 2019

For Connor James Nye, 3 months oldYou smile at everyone. When lifted, toted,you hold ((onto)) shoulder or sleeve,gazing curiously, each room or face.Irish sheep, stuffed puppy, your daddy’s clown.Dwelling in a tender current of care,you know nothing ((details of the footnote)) of cruelties people doto one another. Tiled ceilings, arching rooms. The villages of Palestinecould still be neatly terraced in your brain.When you smile, we might all be wishing each other well.When you startle at a loud sound,await the power of softnessto settle you down. There is no other power in your world.Hunger, interest, kicking, joy

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