from Sketches of Home, by Suzanne Clark
“Soft Boy,” p 45
I love your hands, cloud pugs, pillows. Soft or not, the hands are bossy, going for my hair, nose, ribbon on my blouse—anything they desire the hands grab, to go of course into the mouth with its voracious gums.
There are also your cheeks, soft as dumplings, dimpling when you laugh. I love your laugh, proceeding first from the eyes, then spreading to your mouth in a grin that seems as big as you are—and on to the belly that shakes as you laugh, fat puppy’s belly, plush toy, marshmallow boy…