Monday, February 14, 2011

On Waking

I dreamt of a shark with paper teeth,
And wondered at the menace
of what terrifies me.
He'd come to attack my little son-
My most precious,
My insatiable one...
Up he popped, and nearly got me-
And up popped my hand,
In defensive instinct.
How hose impressive edges were so very thin!
His gums were so soft,
--where now to begin?

The things I fear most, are they all this way?
Tenderness beckons where terror held sway.

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