The Least of These

I want to take you in my hands
and whisper prayers
into your hair. Little one,
hush and hide yourself

in my cornered room.
I will keep him away

and you can watch the butterflies
dance above our heads
below the ceiling
and while you sleep

under the iridescent colony
I will cast a warmth

and remind you
that nothing lasts forever, save
for Atlas and his weary treasure

and the fluttering, fearless,
final oaths
of chiaroscuro cocoons.

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5 thoughts on “The Least of These

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