Breasts that sag with milk not drunk
Little specks of white colored red
Silver stretch marks
Where once you slept
Your painting book lies open on the floor
And my hands empty of colors
How do I teach you black outlines and white insides
When all I can see are shades of grey
A half lit lamp
And your incoherent lines
How do I teach you those ancient chants
When my hands refuse to fold themselves in prayer
How dare I hold you close?
When the wild world beckons at your little feet
What do I give you my son?
When you have taken all