from The Light Tears Loose

If blue is dream / what then innocence?  —Federico García Lorca

It is the laughter of your three-year-old
 neighbor when you sail soapy bubbles,
her fingers reaching
 for the drifting moons

It’s the adoration in your dog’s eyes
 when you nuzzle close and stroke his ears
even when shoe leather scatters the hallway

Your son’s trust
 when you subtract the training wheels,
when you run behind him
 as he cycles away

 It’s your mother, losing her words
 and her way, letting you lead her back
to the white-walled room, tuck her into bed

 Iridescent, transparent,
 reflective — the world balanced
on a quivering wand, forming

                                          with your breath