Our Baby So Smart

He’s going forward like a wind up toy
On tracks of milk. He’s got an I.Q.
Of water splash and a heart of sound waves.

His tracks are the tracks the stink bug
Leaves in dust. His halo follows him
Late like an afterthought of clean wash
Like the Virgin Mary snapped her fingers.

He leaves a wake of rose scent and tidal
Love. The ocean grows forgetful when he
Waves good-bye. When he makes the
Motion of water, the drought ends.

Gentle rain in his face. Too soon,
Will and the ego of camels, the ego
Of cats, the ego of elk will well up
But for now a one year vine

Flaunt clematis flowers the size
Of his head. He sniffs geranium
And covers his non-ascetic face
In ashes. He makes pleasure a sacrament.

He naturalizes the landscape with vowels.
He says, “Hot hot hot” and points, the table,
The locust tree in pink flagrant bloom.
The world is all hot to his cool cruise.

He backs down an entire flight of stairs
Like an air traffic controller, self possessed,
Jaunty, you expect him to doff his cap
But he can’t fathom the word “doff.”

His cap is “hot hot hot.” When motion
Stops he is a mandolin of sleep. His eyes
Arrest the birds and send them to jail.
His dreams speak Belgian and Hungarian.

His nightmares have no claws.
The whole world is breast and light.
He knows no other name for it.