baby book

i wrote a baby book once
hoping one day for it to be full-grown.
the words were small and few -
more pictures than text,
yet i wonder,

as a small thinker,
if i would show up in your sonogram
as i wish you carried me around inside. where would i be
if not in the cortices of fallen lovers
and flowing water
off your back and square shoulders.
cherished memories of training wheels and roller-skate keys
pigtails dipped in students' ink - writing off
days
one
by one
by one.

(c)jim hill (05-30-2011)

sketcher sketch us

advice in a column
scrambling for a row
telling a friend
it's not to late,
ever, to eat crow.

you said you were sorry
that i ever said you looked
like liv ullman,
preferring instead, to be my
tracy ullman
(more characters? more humors?) i have
doubts that you laugh
in your current world: of cramped spaces
and a baby's nick-nacks
and snack-packs in a drawer. there
are seasons to be sure
there are reasons also
to be back home
within the familiar country of mothers.

(c)jim hill (05-30-2011)