a poem a day for a year #6

The baby doesn't want his toys

he only wants to sit by the warm air register and play

with my Nars "The Mulitple" make-up stick

I have tried to take it from him three times

he fights me like a drunk

so now I let him sit there and be still



as he marks up his perfect skin

with pink luminous

lady paint

he smiles

tiny chicklet teeth

spark laughter

he glows

like Maldives