His toddler nose
runs the way happiness is an allergy.
The whistle of his life is young and changing,
long as hair keeps
leaping out his skull.
His eyes dilate. Beaming
two amber drops.
His lungs dilate too. They are filled
He has the sun inside of him, and he lies in the universe.
Beads of soil press against the back of his head
like little gods.
He watches with the zephyr some puddle skies but
he’s taken sip of its
orbit and knows the weight of the cumulonimbus so
he lays his eyes closed and listens.
The cows wait to be milked
and the bees bob about the grass.
M. WRIGHT is the winner of Weisman Art Museum's 'Poetry ArtWords'. His poems have recently been published in Ghost City Review, The Rising Phoenix Review, Maudlin House, Barely South Review, and (forthcoming in) Temenos Journal. In 2017 he will also be one of the 24 featured poets in the Saint Paul Almanac's 'Impressions Project' series. More: wrightm.com , @m__wright