How Can Your Hand, So Little

How did you get the stars

which

yesterday hung-up

in a loose night sky,

reclusive,                remote,                removed,

today

to join

in constellations?

How did you get the humid wind

that last night

carried only mosquitoes

to leave its rain outdoors

and breeze its way

past curtains and cradle

just to butterfly

your skin with kisses?

How can your body,

so tiny,

fill up

so much of our house?

And with muscles too weak

to hold up your own head

make an ocean-liner wake

I will follow

the rest of my life?

How can your hand,

so little,

hold

so much

of me?

(written 9/10/97, for my daughter, Kaia)