The Little One

is a madam, is more parrot
than fluffy bunny, more myself
clotted. Is the drink of the sky, the
visitor of my life. Wakes my metal heart with
gaping cries and trancelike silence. All
air on my hips but she loves me dark
to the bone. She stays close for
long, wet kisses warming me as I write this.
Small young smile, I’m desperately fond of
us.

— after Idra Novey’s ‘The Visitor’