poets in their bassinets
dream a splendid woman holding over their baby eyes
a globe, shining with
possibility. someone,
she smiles, has to see this
and report it, and they
in their innocence
believing that all will be
as beautiful as she is,
whimper use me, use me
and oh how terrifying
that she does.
Copyright © 2024 by Lucille Clifton. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 13, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.