“Have you put her in a dress yet?”
she asked me
“No, actually I haven’t.”
“What?” she replied
“She’s a girl”
and I don’t know how to
punctuate that
Dot dot dot…?
My baby girl
who hasn’t worn
her first dress yet
who smells of little pieces of snow
whose fists are still closed
to the wet and the warm
of the world
the rough and the smooth
of what is to come
Pastel pages
Rosebud lips that have yet
to speak
the unknown words
waiting to spill out
The world,
as of yet,
deaf to her song
Christmas Eve, the beginning
naming you
naming you
Ayana
Ayana Sofia
Japanese Aya, beautifully colored,
intricately woven
Na, fruitful
What will your first dress be?
Will it resemble
the one your heart will one day
shake inside of
lost in dance,
warm hands on your back
as you sway to
the music?
And the only way to finish
the song
is
…?
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