this.

because it brings such a memory like light in crystals.
she.
bleary eyed having just woken up.
sister says shes running around the campground.
child-laugh permeating morning mist.
pancakes on the griddle.
cut up fruit on paper plates.
running legs light like feathers.
there are others across the pebble path.
just like her.
jelly shoes.
dirty fingernails that wont be trimmed.
best friends melded in ten minutes.
that kind of freedom.

all because of her little cotton shorts with dolphins jumping.
all because of the soft three quarter length sleeved shirt with horses printed on.
purple sleeves past elbows.
terry grey.
terry grey.
scalloped at the waist.
(she slept in it).
then she woke up bleary eyed.
and all of this started.
all because of those sweet messy yellow braids.
that body light as joy.
the stallions running across.
we know it like it was us.
we used to eat cereal dry right from the box.

I still love you big.

for alison.

when we were 12 we went to summer camp together.
we brushed each others hair on shabbat.
we hid behind the cabin and kissed dark haired jewish boys.

once when you fell asleep hard
I cohearsed the girls in our cabin
to put your finger into warm water to make you pee.
it didn't work.
we were all scared to wake you up.
i'm still scared to wake you up
but id risk it.

cause love is like sisters
and washing eachothers dishes.
and sitting beside just to calm the nerves
of the one you love.

three little dirty blond haired girls
sit car seats crammed together in the back seat of your matrix.
mistaken for sisters.
we made babies and pushed them out.
you pushed yours out so quick i almost didnt make it in time.
I dont know how we grew up enough to push babies out
but we did.
we did it real good sister.

we used to make each other friendship bracelets out of DMC floss.
we were once swim buddies.

edges

you are just like a puppy

wanting to reach the edges to be held in tight spaces.

pushing out with soon-to-grow tiny paws.

when you were on the inside you kicked

your inside legs out straight smashing

your heels into the walls of my inside flesh

I could see the outline of your heels

bunny kicking! when you were on the outside

and a little one sharing our bed

I recognized your synchronicity.

you performed a ballet of your own inception into my then fleshyfeminine body.

into papas too and he would get out of bed

and go sleep in your pale yellow baby room

unable to rest.

to me your jabs were a reminder of my once juicily luscious belly

and loving you so good while you were still a part of me that way.

you jerked your legs out knees barely bent

pushing your soft underfeet

again into my bones and I knew you were feeling for stretchy pink walls,

seeking the edges of comfort.

oslo seeks the edges too.

the nine week old pup wondering why his furflesh is not still colliding

with that of his siblings as it so recently was.

(proof there is truth in the pack).

we find him squeezed in between two way-overstuffed black garbage bags

full of clothes to be donated.

wedged just in between seeking the edges.

we find him curled up on a plastic mat in between pairs of rubber boots and fastmelting snow.

then fluffily danced between his own stuffed doppelganger and the couch 

drinking comfort

inside little wild 

puppy dreams.

I never wanted you to leave our bed.

so precious the time of silence and warm feathery skin.

your innocence in dreamtime.

any discomfort was abolished 

by my unquenchable thirst

to stay close to you

as long as I could.

and now you are six years and three months old.

one of those numbers is even and one is odd.

you still bunny kick me in bed but I understand your need

to meet the edges.

I smile inside myself contemplating your six year old heels

now hardened on being the warrior that you are.

your heels pummel my belly

and I smile inside myself.

because I know your subconscious yearns 

for tight warm spaces.

to be wrapped complete in child’s bliss.

you, 

akin to a puppy seeking the edges.

while you sleep

and I am awake.

loving you with ferocity hazel.


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