My children refract light,

trailing rainbows that echo from

the arcs of their arms

between silvered screens.

 

They are prisms. Crystals.

Clear quartz, angled, imperfect,

attracting light to their

beating hearts, beating

footsteps, oscillating in blues, reds

undersea greens.

 

They draw light,

release light. They laugh

in undulate colors.