Poetry: Cradle and All by Taylor D’Amico

We adore this new poem by Taylor D’Amico—how it flirts with the sonnet form, how it maneuvers so gently between the delicate subjects. “Cradle and All” announces an arrival for D’Amico: a poet here to stay.

Cradle and All

I cradled the weight of a honeybee,
her thread-like legs clung to my chest,
gripping my shirt like an infant flexing
her hands. Her body, an air swept ounce,
felt heavy on my breast, and I wanted
to keep her there,
[SPACE NEEDmy dear droning daughter.
And once, my son, I held your humming
body in the comb of my womb, shielded
within my bones, until you awoke, startled
by the world. Your weight— a hundred bees
in my arms—pulsing and alive. I’ve tried
to carry you, safe in the branches of my arms.
But one of us will fly before the other is ready.
I can only bow my arms; hold steady.

Taylor D'Amico

Taylor D'Amico is assistant poetry editor for Five Points and worked as production editor for Muse /A. She earned her MFA at Georgia State University. Her work has appeared in America Magazine.

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