“It’s late,” (my precious firstborn).
Standing in the centre of your bedroom,
You smile and
*boom*
there’s/ that/ gap
two baby teeth gone forever.
Tick-tock. Bye-bye my rock-a-bye baby.
Strong wiry arms and legs.
Your magnificence and fragility
shock.
“Sleep well,” (I hope nothing ever harms you).
“I’m going to bed,” (fuck, I can’t protect you).
“Goodnight,” (I’ll always love you).
“I’ll always love you”.




This week I’ve been reflecting on parenting as a spiritual practice. This poem was inspired by my night owl, and our late night moments together. If you’re reading this, thank you. Love Bri ❤