Your daughter, I assure you,
I keep safe,

from sharp edges
old-school photos always have.

“Good, let’s keep it that way”
we agree

It’s nice to know she’s travelling now
and I’ll keep mine open for her
picking Corsican citrons
as my bus starts to slow down,

and in the evening, in some clay dusted village
she will grimace
as newly found friends laugh
explaining the dare of biting down

with the startled acid displaced
on her marine-crested iris

a beautiful azure shade when girls laugh

I’m sure I’ll meet her in New Zealand
near Invercargill
where my rapid eye movents suddenly

lose their kick

Twilight dreams of white water fizz
splash her on board my photographs
I, giving her my yellow mac

my shovel-like hands cover
these sharp side edges we discussed

I won’t let even our pictured cuddle
pierce a hair on her glorious head