Tonight, A Little Poem

my daughter’s mouth

is remarkable.

smooth and supple, it shapes itself

into an o and grows to an ah –

anticipates a plastic ring.

the tender mollusk tongue

neatly folds and unfolds

around the object

blind in sensation;

the method of

touch slow and exact.

she traces glistening lines

until a soft wetness coats

anything more to be learned

and the tongue retreats,

slips back behind her shell

silent in its knowing.