Right now, just now, I first imagined you,
friend for six days, or twenty years.
You came into being just this moment.
Fall into the heartbeat first heard,
and wake into the smelling salts of love.
Hold your gaze to the curling fingers—
they vine through lattices;
they window for a world
you are blind to,
where your smile is born.
Right now you came into being.
Sui generis grandfather I’ve never seen.
Out-of-nowhere mother. And on and on.
Just now, my once-dead father is seven
and on his second cup of tea.
He sprung from my crown
fully formed, my
strange boy coming home to me.