THE CHILD’S FIRST FALL

CLAIRE S. LEE

 
 

Is always met with immediate shriek.
Fingers clutch the surge of red, welling poignant
on the knee. Asphalt streaks plague
nude flesh as child crows
in surrender, the flap of loose skin fluttering
as fast as a hummingbird’s wing.

 

 
 

∘∘∘