in the night
braids now dry from yesterdays pooling
nakie body she turns over
and THWACKS her little headcheek on top of my face.
wrapped over now like a puppy
curled tight to her sister in exhaustion and
sordid devotion.
and I think about her wee body
and how much I love it so.
how she moves it that is what I love best.
(im scribbling in the dark just so you know).
as a bebe we layed her on her back
and shaped a game called EXERCISES
and we moved her tiny parts crosswise
marrying and arm to a kitty-corner leg and over
again.
we sung to her
‘exercises exercises ex-er-size-es!’
she is so inside her body now
(I think of how I hid terrified in mine).
she turned six two days ago.
with her papa she goes to dance church on sundays
and with her papa she goes to contact improv too.
at rosemary house we move all the furniture out
towards the edges
and that is our dance floor
and really we mostly dance to regina spector and she
knows all the words.
she is drama and un-due-lay-shon!
I will at no time tire of dancing with her.
and if I do then I never will.
this girl once at my breast.
and the thing that I squeal for?
her little bum bum.
HER BUM BUM!
it is so soft and strong and fits just right in my
palm.
and she sings
‘wiggle mah bum wiggle mah bum.
MA-MA HERE IS MY BUM! (oomping it out at me).
and I do I do I love all her little parts
that arent so little anymore.
so though it pained me some
I lifted her heavy head off my cheek.
I lifted it off because this prose was square
dancing inside my head
and I wanted to write it down.
she is my light like you are your mama’s too.
