MAMMA! —
a child cried out in the courtyard.
All mothers in the world
like startled birds
then spread
the wings of windows,
and settled on their terraces,
and said to themselves,
Not mine.

Yet, a mother’s wings would not just fold.

And so, their eyes gently washed 
the blossoming knee,
bandaged the wound,
soothed the sting,
wrapped the shivering child in a sweater,
the lonely one in a smile,
and gave each questions
its proper answers,
the way a mother does.
Which is to say –
with all the seriousness of a child.
When the houses shut their fearful eyes,
the world outside returned
most obediently
to its game,
soothed and content.