Forty-One

as we're cut folding and gluing
these newspaper shreds
i wonder if there is something
that could be said
about the way your eyes sparkle
and reflect off your glasses
or the way your teeth shimmer
and you bat your eyelashes
or the way your mouth hangs
just slightly open-
so many reasons you're beautiful
i wonder who has told you
and even you, over there,
you don't say much
but when your little hand presses mine
my heart jumps
to kneel to the ground
thank the supreme that you're here-
you've got dust granules wading
in your oiled, neat hair
why is this earth so
small and round and spinning
why can't i take you all in my arms
and just start running?