Lit by one watt
I try to archive your profile
And make an extra copy for safekeeping somewhere in my brain
The middle-of-the-night you, the tiny velvet person that no one else knows but me
A hungry little fellow
Tiny and tired
Unbelievably soft and warm against the shelf of baby weight on my abdomen
my baby
My baby
My Baby
I wish I could drink you down or fold you up and keep you forever
Please Lord, let me keep an eight pound version of this little tiny person
if I promise to bake birthday cakes and buy school shoes and practice driving
Could You let me keep this 16 day old baby
For just a little longer?
Your tiny heaviness
Tucked under my chin
Stubborn burp refusing to bubble up before i lay you back down
Oh what I would give if I could bottle this
I’d put it in a snow globe
And take it down from the shelf whenever I needed a sprinkle of this sparkly dark exhausting sacred season
so warm
And wondrous
And wiggly
And helpless
And shiny
And tiny
you are