Promise

There were little wet tears
lying on
Infant's forehead,
mixing into her fuzz of
downy hair.

Child stared at Infant's skull,
at her tiny, cold hands,
long fingers like
crooked icicles,
her
glassy eyes,

and Mommy rocking Infant goodnight
as she spilled tears
and whispered
lullabies,

Don't worry, honey,
everything's going to be
fine.

It gets hard for Child
to believe someone,
when their words are
cracked and
broken
with tears.