you almost kiss
the bed with your small lips,
sipping night in these
surprising infant gasps
that hold a little life in you
for seconds at a time.
You sleep well, unless
the hour is cool, and then
you
hunt for arms, and nose
to cold nose, tell silently
all you know into our beating hearts
until dawn comes.
I listen in fear,
for I suspect
that when I learn
what you are saying here between
your parents in the dark,
I will weep and mourn
our having brought you here
without your wings.