I think of them as my
magic faucets,
as though one day
I was licking cookie batter
off my finger
and apple juice
poured out.
I was told I would love it
which I do,
but not the way they said.
He doesn’t stare up at me
devoted;
he looks around
kneading the round flesh
with one hand
absentmindedly,
like you might do with a pillow
on a couch
while watching TV.
I love it because
they are such a neat trick
I had nothing to do with,
like being double-jointed
or really good at math.
I love it because
he is so big
and he didn’t eat solid food for ages.
I love it because
it will never again
be this easy
to make his pain
disappear.