You stick in the crevice, corner of my sight. Have you been here all the time? Burning the backs of my eyelids? Echo of a light; darling - oh! - child, have you been standing in the doorway, waiting for your father, rubbing your sleep-dust out. Here, let me bathe you. And don't you come back, now! I say. Private smile tugging just between us. I know, I know. You're the contour of a pearl in the damp flesh of the light, like preciously parted lips leaning to a new lover. Young crush flower. I...