Moment of Conception
by Craig Kurtz


If I had three wishes
I’d give half to you:
with turquoise eyes
and an apple smile,
childhood is an adventure
for birds with rainproof feathers 
and radical romantics
without binoculars.

If I had nine lives
I’d give half of them to you: 
with roller skates
and lots of pets,
growing up is mythical
and makes a puzzle of kismet fit for clowns and buccaneers
 none of whom heed horoscopes.

You were the girl
with the bow and arrow;
I was the boy
with water paints to share; 
we swam in the pond
and counted the stars;
and after that summer
we only grew younger.

If I had but one breath to breathe
 I would gladly hand half to you:
 with trampolines
and hide and seek,
a family is a weather front
 sustaining zealot sentinels 
undeterred by augury
and disarrayed by tenderness.