Prism
Fingers nest-curled around
a caterpillar, her eyes
full of summer, the girl is
dagger-fixed on the insect
exploring the warm universe of her palm.
And from that, a story
about an insect prince, his green coat
speckled with yellow diamonds
how he floated on a leaf to get home.
She resides in the days soft edges
like my son years ago who returned
from preschool, cheeks flushed,
breath trying to catch up with voice
to tell how he saw all the colors
of the rainbow from a dungeon
his teacher hung in the window
and how for a moment that image
magically suspended new in the air
like the sweet release of something caged
before making its way back through
the word he heard as prison
splitting white light into blues
yellows, and greens. Giddy and temporal.
Originally from Montreal, Babo Kamel is now retired to Florida. Her work is published in reviews such as Greensboro Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, CV2, Poet Lore, and Best Canadian Poetry 2020. Her chapbook, After, is published with Finishing Line Press. She divides her time between Montreal and Florida. babokamel.com
See more of her work in 9.2