Newly-exploded into our world,
you’re a jack-in-the-box baby,
lolling at ease now, like an ocean buoy,
oblivious to onlookers and to clocks.
You made your entry with the éclat
of a snooker pro, scattering
multi-coloured balls in all
directions – a masterly first break.
These tumbling spheres are your cells,
doubling and redoubling in cascade
to create new angles – shots I’ll struggle
to make, your playing-partner, your parent.
When your father placed your basket
gently on the path, searching for door keys,
it tethered us all under the marquee
of your perpetual party: anchored, like nomads.
Lucy Lewis
