Things I Will Tell My Children About Destiny

You remind them
of weighted tumbleweeds,
hen-egg brown. Don’t let
them take the rag-
time beneath your skin.
It stirs earth’s curvature
and a choir
of frogs
when you enter
or leave a room. Don’t
leave a swallow of juice
or milk in the fridge.
A body grieved
is a whole new body.
Give your shadow a name
big as a star, see
yourself out loud.
Pick wild irises the best gifts
roll under a ribcage, leave
open mouths splendid.

I like your smile unpenned.

Keep your bird-
song close, imagine
an hourglass full
of architects and dreamers,
the first taste of fresh
scooped ice cream.
You will learn to master
camouflage among ordinary things—
men who spill words
not thoughts, trigger fingers
ready
to brand loose.

I love your smile unpenned.