childlike

i touch the world, palm flat.
everything a marble
i can fit in my mouth,
maybe swallow.
i can get the cat by the tail:
i am small enough
to fit beneath the sink,
my silent & clever eye
looking thru the keyhole
into the illuminated kitchen
where adults work,
walk over linoleum,
shuck clams with a short knife,
soon—searching for me,
not knowing i am squinched up,
knees to my throat,
each breath drawn, ratcheted in.
i am small enough
to go unnoticed,
to cause a panic
when found missing.
the luxury
of the damp below-sink,
dog-eared, half hoping
to be discovered,
half hoping to be wept for.
not yet aware
of my magnitude:
to be loved
means when you are gone,
the one that loves you
will pry a house up,
down to the foundation,
to have you
safe again.

---

silas denver melvin (he/him) is a trans masc poet from southern New Hampshire. his debut collection, grit, was released in 2020 with Sunday Mornings at the River. he has been published with Doghouse Press, Toyon Literary, WACK, SCAB, Visio, Beaver Magazine, & other outlets. he can be found on instagram @sweatermuppet3.0 and on Twitter + Tumblr @sweatermuppet.