This is how
You teach him love
A young mischievous child
Wanting to hold without owning
Wanting to touch
Scissors on the table
Knives on the kitchen
Broken glasses on the floor
Without getting cut
He has not been
Wounded enough
Because you take things away –
Scissors, knives, broken glasses
Keeping them in your pockets
Everywhere seems too safe
Everything seems too harmless
I told you
Never teach him love
Just show him patience
Never to hide things
That cut and wound --
Leave them where they are
And just forbid him
For touching too much
Too soon
Pull back his arms
If you may
Keep his fingers folded
In his own pockets
And tell him
No place is too safe
Nothing is too harmless
For our hands
