Childhood
       

Though childhood is not what a child would know

To call it—her corpus callosum isn't quite

Connected yet—and anyway why would she want to?

When you're six you're a ghost inside another ghost,

Un-pierceable by anything in the substantial world,

Where this and this and this keeps happening.

A knob of milky quartz juts out of a rock.

There's a man on the moon, a box of matches adorned with a key.

You wear your life lightly

As the dog you name wears the name you name it.

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Copyright © 2019 Daniel Lawless All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission