Words For A Nursery

Rosebud, knot of worms,

Heir of the first five

Shapers, I open:

Five moony crescents

For eyes to light me

Toward what I can grab,

Milk-spout, big finger

So many ladders

Giving a leg up

To these limber hooks.

I learn, good circus

Dog that I am, how

To move, serve, steer food,

Index the arrow,

Thumbhead, blunt helper,

My master's fetcher,

Whipper of itches,

No pocket dozer,

I shut on the key

Of this blue-green toy.

Five-antlered, branching

Touchy antenna,

I nose out the lay

Of thistle and silk,

Cold pole and hot plate.

Old historian,

My page this desert

Crossed by three causeways,

Leathery, treeless,

With five whorled landspits.

Brown-backed, white-bellied

As a flatfish, I

Swim the Sea of Do,

The left my lackey,

My backward image.

Penbearer, scrubnurse,

The captain's batman,

By heart here I hold

Coin, button, trigger

And his love's body.

Ill-served he'll be when

Age manhandles me

(A crab to nap on

Chairarms and tables,

Five wickless candies

To wag at the dark)

And worse-served when death

Makes off with this rose,

Five worms in a box

To feed the thin crows.