A Little Death During Laughter
a poem about little children
Published in
Sep 4, 2024
CW: death of a child
When my littlest niece is lifted into the air—
she flies. She cries out with joy. She giggles.
Erupting up from some liquid core of love, then
raining down like holy water
on those blessed enough to be around.
When this baby (look, she’s the same kind of sweet and small)
is lifted (no stop; her limbs and head are hanging)
She doesn’t make a sound.
All of the noise and air and life and love
and pain and death and
“G-d, take me instead.”
are already being used up
by her father —
as he screams and screams and screams.
Erupting up from the hell in his hands.
