10/30 sleep child.

And when you finally slip into the warm delicate dark,
do not wait to throw applesauce fireworks on the walls.
Paint orchards of wallflowers, pick them gently.
Tell them they have branches to hold.
Let your elbows straighten out.
That mean boy on the playground is not allowed
here. He covets the wonder of frail hands.

Hold rhinoceros feet, tell him he can trust.
Behind his tusks he is learning how to read.
Plan a play date with tiger cub.
Her mother pours warm milk,
dips her stripes in to make it chocolate.
Join your friends dancing on a moon cloud.
Don't let the adults in the hall tell you
the moon is walled in by pervasive nothing.
Watch M birds you drew lift off the page,
flap their arches slow and huge majestic as they
fly up to your cloud nest to feather brush your face lightly.
You are inside a pink velvet soft sun, hugging you, drying your eyes,
restoring to your face the warmth
it needs to glow.