He is quite still.
Such a little breath, a little flutter, a little
spring of the arms.
Head like an Easter egg
the one blue eye that opens and shuts once
to take me in.
Now I stroke with a finger only.
He sleeps and will not feed
his skin tinged yellow.
And my heart
that I have not always recognised
squeezes and swells.
I watch her watching
take her rounded brown arm
between my hands to keep her safe
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