Because I love you, tiny boy,
breast milk on your breath,
dark down covering your head,
the head I can still cup in one hand
as I lay you gently in this cradle,
gently so as not to wake you–
Because I love you, I open
the iron scissors, place their strong
blades, sharp as eagle’s talons, wicked
as wolves’ claws, here above
your eggshell skull to keep away
the others who would steal you in the night
and leave me with a changeling child.
Because I love you, you will always dream
beneath the pointed glint of silver.
Jennifer Hernandez, Minnesota teacher/writer, has performed her poetry at a non-profit garage, a taxidermy-filled bike shop, and in the kitchen for her children. Her recent work has appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic and Mothers Always Write, as well as A Prince Tribute (Yellow Chair Press) and Write for your Life (Zoetic Press).