the tongues
of sleeping infants yet nursing.
Silenced cries in a scream to be heard,
poles of a tension
racking tiny spines hoping
to find rest.
Pulse and bird song and little lungs.
the intimately familiar movements
of suckling-
Feed us, World,
Shelter, hold and protect us.
Allowing for that world-
the one we call to reach for us-
we bring the scattered pieces
together again.