Your Keep

© Beth Roberts

Only one who knows the body with skill and invention counsel, wheedle, blood, loosening arms, might be more aware of the harm to do children. Before you were the usual misgivings, missing parts born or the whole child done, daily informant on the radio to make a season's best gone bad, but look . . . now you're here with a mouthful and a look, easy to make happy, or already happy and so to make last. I put your foot to my lips and make you laugh, place a hand across your chest, I try to keep you in this place. There is a mind in the gap at the small of my back: no art and no artillery, no heart will keep you so.