Revision

Daughter

I heard the tiniest of beats,
in my palm.
Incredibly, the right weight,
a skull as big as my hand.

Nostrils that picked up the scent
of myself as a child,
in my own mother's care.

Elevation through pictures
in albums, from young to now,
and the laugh for rife predictions
from a needle on a thread
that said boy or girl,
him or me.

The lines 'round your knuckles,
the back of your sixteen year old hand
that flows into wrist.
I connect freckles,
from underarm to collarbone
and I hear your sigh still,
in a toothless grin,
catch your hair,
each follicle of it, my
pupils dilated in
reflex.

------

Original

Daughter

I heard the tiniest of beats,
just in my palm.
Incredibly, the right weight,
a skull as big as my hand.

Nostrils that picked up the scent
of myself as a child,
in my own mother's care.

Elevation through pictures
in albums, from young to now,
and the laugh for rife predictions
from a needle on a thread
that said boy or girl,
him or me.

The lines 'round your knuckles,
the back of your sixteen year old hand
that flows into wrist.
I connect freckles,
from underarm to collarbone
and I hear your sigh still,
in a toothless grin,
catch your hair,
each follicle of it, see my
pupils dilated in
a pleasing reflex.

Krista - This is a very solid piece. Connections so lovingly expressed. My only suggestion is the ending.

Consider:

pupils dilated in reflex.

Something about "...dilated in / a pleasing reflex." that is not so smooth.

Well done, RC

Thanks Richard.

Agree with your suggestion. I struggled with the last line. Well spotted.

Regards,
K

Hi Krista

Happy New Year!

A beautiful poem, full of loving emotions. Just a few minor thoughts below.

Daughter

Perhaps 'My Daughter' would make it more personal.

I heard the tiniest of beats,
[just] in my palm.
Incredibly, the right weight,
[a] skull as big as my hand.

Words in brackets could be removed to tighten the stanza up

Nostrils that picked up the scent
of myself as a child,
in my own mother's care.

Elevation through pictures
in albums, from young to now,
and the laugh for rife predictions
from a needle on a thread
that said boy or girl,
him or me.

Didn't get this at first - made me smile when I did

The lines 'round your knuckles,
the back of your sixteen year old hand
that flows into wrist.
I connect freckles,
from underarm to collarbone
and I hear your sigh still,
in a toothless grin,
catch your hair,
each follicle of it, see my
pupils dilated in
a pleasing reflex.

I agree with Richard's suggesting for the ending.

It's good to come back after Xmas and read such a pleasing poem.

Eira

Hi Krista, Happy New Year
Some of your phrases / imagery needs highlighting.
"Elevation through pictures" seems an awkward phrase, surely review or realization. The term is geographic ! Do you mean the word Evaluation

I feel this doesn’t work ie by observing follicles you feel joy . Surely smiles, laughter, happiness, something concrete gives joy. Belows feels too tangential
“each follicle of it, see my
pupils dilated in
a pleasing reflex”

Happy New Year to you all as well.

Greenwich: the elevation is spiritual...combing through photo albums, my feelings of euphoria grew.

For me, the details of someone, as small as hair follicles, especially so with a child, give great, great joy.

Regards,

K.

Krista your first point is good and clear in explanation
However you mentioned the daughter being sixteen in the same stanza as the hair follicles
However your point about it being a baby is poetical