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Poetry | January 2005

All That There Is

By Holly A. Schullo

       Go to sleepy,
       little baby.

       Go to sleepy,
       little baby.

You discover
rain comes from sky,
today, a word

just learned, baby
hand held out to
discovery

days after you
made a word for
birds, planes, caw-caw,

one word for love,
la, everything
yet to be named

       Come and lay
       your bones
       on the alabaster stone

is that, just weeks
after you found
the moon, so soon

after dada,
dog, no. You do
not know a world

that is always
turning, moving
toward entropy,

that everything
expires. Sleep.

       Go to sleepy,
       little baby
.

       Go to sleepy,
       little baby
.

know everything
firsthand, all that
there is, know that

stars are fixed each
night in the sky,
that the moon moves

       You and me
       and the devil
       makes three
.

from window to
window, to look
in other rooms.

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