Round-headed, round-eyed,
curious, astonished,
like an owl or a sea lion,
but white as moonlight:
a lynx with feathered feet,
a little snow-colored kit,
bounding. Hullo, you silence.
Hullo you secret joy.
Take flight into the blackest
forest, where the wild boar
still roots with a coral-pink
snout. Let him find you
his one prize, bloom of earth,
a truffle: that ruffled treat,
like an ugly rose in the hand,
the friendly earth’s delicious
gift. I don’t care what they say,
how many drawings they do
of you in a dead baby’s
nightgown: I know you love
the things of this world,
and will miss them,
when you go.