Sonnet for Lizzie Beth, 13 years now

Cream-colored paper tells me I am married on earth
to a man. Tattered, rolled up, frayed at the edges.
I hold a knot of concern near your birth.
Inside me, your illuminated spring embraces,

cradles the playfulness of swimming heels
and light hands, unlike this heaviness
we hold, waiting to catch you like rain, until
our hands are drenched in unexpected silence.

Still, your offering untold vacates my soul, pressing
against me like sun in and out of windows.
Leaving your world, entering mine, pulsating,
you abrade, bending into a rain that grows.

Slippery warm, we reach to make room where
it’s safe, to tread light steps in the air.

* originally published Spring 2011