Well-Spoken

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WELL-SPOKEN


A different kind of death 

            to watch a toddler grow ever more 

articulate, syntax beginning to form 

            its own fierce opinion 

that bunny top goes with bunny 

            bottoms, not cupcakes, 

because this isn’t the wild

            fucking west. No lover of chaos 

here, but sure, a cynic

            of the sensical as we insist

to cement it, meaning it’s hard 

            to watch her so excitedly leave off 

what I’m just now beginning

            to find, babbling my halting way 

back to the wild and a light

            that doesn’t fade west as soon

as we’re beginning to see the path

            worth taking, the one

that stutters back on itself

            until we're twisted enough

to pause, take a deep breath,

            and straighten things out.

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