Natasha Cellich

second

By

O, starry-eyed second child,
You were born with two feet of your own
To take you far away from all you’ve ever known.

Find the place you’re No One
And learn to call it home.

Leave behind the sunny shores
Where your soul’s seed was sown.

Seconds sift through hands
Like snow, or sand,
Or the words at the end of a poem.