she's upstairs in bed
singing in her sleep
as she clings
to elmo
i think she's
happier than usual
and i'm glad
sometimes i forget
and i'm too hard on her
she weighs about
two prayers
has tiny feet
and her eyes
are purely free

sometimes an animal
crawls into my mouth
and makes me mean
bu i've never been
good with kids

i can still hear
her singing now
and it's very late
at night
and from my back door
i can see
the lights of the city
and they're as sweet
as ripe mangos
her song hangs in
the air
like frail ribbons of joy
and the room
is calm
strange
as if magic had
suddenly
become commonplace