Wayfarers

Knox I’m Happy, Right?

Knox I’m Happy, Right?

My smile is authentic but so

is your smile when you hold

an impossibly fragile and tiny creature,

a newborn kitten with fur so fine

it doesn’t register on your fingers’

nerve endings, a duckling fuzzed

the color of young and ecstatic summer.

The smile that comes from holding

something that’s bringing you uncontainable bliss and all

the while, you’re ruminating

on how easy it would be

to destroy it in spite

of your most careful and pure intentions.

Now I wonder if this is why

my mom made us perpetual fugitives.

If you never hold anything precious

for long enough, you never need fear

ruining it with your reckless touch.