Adeline

The smallest one among them
tasted air and named it breath.
The others lopped her silver hair
with garden shears - she wept

all through the second hymn
and then they hid her duffel coat
and so she ran the two streets home
to where they said they couldn’t see her,

no. Her brother’s glasses trapped the sun
and made his eyes alive with fire.
Each colour had a different flavour.
She ran the taps to free the rivers,

begged her eldest sister let her
count the galaxy of freckles.
No one ever missed her
with their spit or snowballs,

open hand or closed. She stayed
so still, she was so good,
they laid her body on the doorstep
like a sandbag for the flood.

End

 
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