Note..

I was wondering if the scarf made last year

feels warm and soft  to your neck

holding above the chin I have bitten and kissed

or

if the Victorian blanket I knitted

covers well your knees

the ones I caressed when they were sore and bruised and bleeding

or

if you’re still listening to

the carol I sang in a lower key

after I cried and cried  with my arms in a knot around your waste on that platform

or

if you are growing the tulip bulbs I’ve sent you

in a row in a bunch or in a pot?

are the reds mixed randomly with the yellows?

or

if on our chess board

my queen has yet taken

your king

has the sorrow in your heart

been replaced with the

helium

of a party balloon?

every word you send me is a secret silver bullet fired under a full moon

this is our cozy underworld

the rest is nothing

(..from Mrs Baby to Mr baby)