By Rebecca Leys

He sleeps

Arms and legs outflung, milky white

Soft and naked in the summer heat

A pallid starfish

His eyelids are smooth

Delicately curved lavender.

I have seen shells

Just like them

Discarded on the beach

Half-filled with sand

His fingers are curled

Inwards around his palms

Like a secret

Tousled baby-fine hair

Sticks damply to his temples

Scrambles over his head

In loops and whorls

Gently his breath slips in

And out of him, laden with

Cinnamon scone and breastmilk

And peace