The Possibility of Perfection

// Robin Dellabough

Not mothers. Not birth.
Maybe every baby ever born.

Flowers with whorls of both stamens and pistils.
A book’s sturdy binding.

Certain words: knabble, jiffle, winkle,
foozle. Serendipity.

The way water refracts light. Or the light.
Or the water.

A Snow Moon rising above the Hudson.
Not kisses, but the lips.

Wet red leaves felted like stars on a yellow kayak.
A bubble, a balloon, a ball.