? drawing the dawn

it was the first time their gaze held mine, big oval flashlights with lightbulb eyes, currents rushing my still straight spine and small stubby toes, power curling inside my mushy fists, oxygen tickling my drying skin and worming in my belly

before the cascades of lightning bug eyes and warm noodle arms got fewer and dimmer, harder and colder, before the electric space at first light filled with the same hollow rocking my first tumbles

when the quiet cove of dark returned and receded many times, I lay under a thick pink quilt my grandmother made dreaming of dragonflies tap dancing on still ponds

the night split in a bright buzz of whispers, tendrils of presence plucking my pores and ears and crisp folds of neurons, rings of light gathering my limbs, clusters of faces and bodies trailing tails of infinite multitudes appearing and disappearing with each blink of my eyes shape-shifting as they swayed solid and transparent

murmurs of greetings bubbled in every direction then the beautiful shape of chaos ordered in singular circulation, crowning rim to center, meeting in a single bead of light inside my chest, melting like candy on a moist tongue, a spread of warm honey giggles in echoey unison, harmonies of welcome following one single voice cresting it’s thick glisten against the undersides of my skin

clusters of light crept close, luscious sounds, sweeps of gentle weight across my wide eyes, streams of star kisses in the shape of words, promises to be at my side any time I call out

then a long erupting silence rung hymns of vibration, knit bright space around my plump little form with deliciously never ending processions of cheeks pressing cheeks, foreheads brushing my forehead, purring songs and sweet words, tickled whispers arching over, amused eyes as I fought sleep, wriggled to catch every golden spark before my lids softened shut

the next time I awoke to the pebbled dark nested in all around I remembered and they came, kissed and crooned, hummed and held and threaded me through with their sweetness, and the night after that and the one after that

but something in the day light hours, in the drained eyes of my parents and the drywall boxing us in our narrow row home, the cement suspending us far above where dirt still huddled close to her origins, crawled up the ropes of belonging they braided inside me, tirelessly unraveling, painting the empty space in translucent amnesia that breathed its ache without leaking a trace of what was

days and weeks and months followed, I found my way to them less and less, until not at all