In the pink room we have found
each other, you in the blue sling
and I deep in the dreams that
I have for you. It is raining post-
heatwave and I am glad your tiny
feet are cold as shells, my heart-
beat pressed up hard against
your ear. Nothing can touch us

now. Your duckling hair is real,
as you are- I never thought we’d
get this far. I had you in mind for
so long you’re still made up, an
unbuilt world. Sometimes you 
chirp and I realise you’re here,
hot little hands in a grip, how 
serious you are. When your eyes

open they are in flint, intent, 
certain in some cold burning that
you've been here before. Wrap me 
up in that, I like it. I like you a lot
small policeman. You are the icing
on the ocean- a dot! And when you're 
asleep I transcribe every breath,
golden crest, tiny bird, new entire.

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