To a Child

To a Child

Sally Thomas

                What did
I plant? Today, these two
Round-lobed leaves have spread
Above the soil, but who
Will tell me which black seed

                It was
I dropped into the hole
My finger made? Like stars
That flower the blue bowl
Of night, my sweet nameless

                Things grow
And will be what they are,
In ordered patterns. Now,
They don’t cohere. No picture
Emerges for me. You,

                Too, may
Grow to learn that fiat
Is all that you can say —
Love someone like that.
Reap uncertainty.

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Sally Thomas
Author & Editor

Sally is the author of Motherland and the novel Works of Mercy. She is also the Associate poetry editor at New York Sun.

Photography by Alex Autio