Eclipse

The clouds shrouded our moment
so you and I sit on the sidewalk bench,
metal lattice pressing diamonds 
into our thighs, your feet 
dangle and kick. We stare 
at the sky, catch flashes
under the gauze. 
You wave the cheap glasses
that should be on your face, 
that I’m supposed to trust 
to protect your eyes
from celestial fire. 
This is motherhood 
I think
to grasp 
cardboard and hope
it is enough 
for you to see 
the universe
unburned.