To Lia
by Bo Niles                              

Dearest One,

Last week the miracle of email
unzipped images of your mother
onto my screen, quick as a click and
a blink, quick like the eely sonogram blip
of you at eight weeks looking like a plathian
prawn, so when this email zipped in which
your daddy described the laminar swoosh of girl  
in a second sonogram at twenty-two weeks, you
as a wriggle and fluent squiggle of calligraphy
penning your person in a precious incunabulum
of silken swimmy-ness, I dreamt of you performing
arabesques and cartwheels and loop-de-loops
there in your womb-world smiling. Oh, O
how lovely is your dwelling place there
in such a subliminal state of grace.
I look at the email with the image
of your mother and I look at 
her hand as it rests upon
the shape of her that is
defined by you
and I know
there is no
shape or
being
dearer
to me
than
the dear
I am
that is
and
will
be
you.