Stay little, poem

fine and sharp like a charm

mysterious

a maker of no sense

Fewer things can go wrong

with fewer lines

Fewer promises broken

in fewer words

Little ones trickle out

of the cage through bars

barely discernible, seep

through the capillaries

in a windowless & evasive

mind that’s devised

ways to protect itself

against spells and magic

Helpless yet

busily resilient

they form like clouds

woven of gauze and mucus

dealing in recovery of broken

hope, delivery of the forgotten

inessential yet

dear

Little ones of no weight

are enough

to transform

as one peers into the sky

to the sound of an air raid siren

falls asleep in a bathtub

dances inside —

a cellar