the child

his 

most dangerous possession 

a matchbook he had pocketed from mom 

his head bowed 

hands filled with knacks and knicks

his moms digging in her purse 

for what one couldn’t guess

and his love

as vast as the furthest 

the sea he could find

in a field of dandelions.

bend your woes 

for he will never know 

why the sun ceases to rise 

or the flooding of us all. 

and she, sundress in the wind 

bends to his height 

love seeping from the stars 

pockets the love he carried for her.