You were a handful of oats
Dripping with honey
In the starving fingers
Of a man frightened by tourists
Your first step was the adjulation
Of Christmas get-togethers
Where the video was passed round
The groaning dining room table.
The uncles clapped his back,
The aunts cooed and planned
Little hockey jersey onelets
To chase away snowflakes
Your grandmother was aflame
With jealousy and love,
As you grabbed her pinky
Like a life saving ring in the ocean.
Your mother cried when you coughed
And sang \"La Vie En Rose\"
As she washed your hair in the little sink, swirling with soap and dust and mud
Your father found the dead cells sticking
Like tree sap frozen in hexagonal puzzle pieces
To the roof of your mouth.
The red film of spittle blended wonderfully with the green embroidered mittens on your tiny, seizing hands
One year to the day since you were brought home,
The parents realized that dreams are something
Which at the coming of dawn, must end.
So, too, in that moment,
did they say to you,
that though you slept alone,
Soon will they sleep with you.
They each kissed your bargain bought tombstone
And raised a glass of rancor, bile, and hemlock,
and whispered quietly in the air
You are sleeping.
Please don\'t wake up.