A freckle here, a freckle there
Not everywhere
Don’t you dare say that

For,
She laughs and they seem to jump
Or dance
Across her nose and cheekbones

Take the bleach away from
My darling
I adore those spots
I want our children to grin
With foxy, shifting faces

After the romance died,
I ceased to care about your looks
Or what you did
To yourself
I only wanted your blood
The heated mixture

Your body became a warehouse
Filled with arms
Legs, and eye colors
Finger nails, voices, and temperaments

I knew
In your blood
Lay the code to a dancing
Smiling child
My child.

10/24/2010

Posted on 10/25/2011
Copyright © 2024 Amy Manning