VERSE
Niflis, Michael
MICHAEL NIFLIS ALIVE O baby chick. Little more than yellow feathers and fluff but, to yourself, quite enough. When I pick you up your frantic peep "pierces my ears. You scratch with...
...Suddenly you doze self-centeredly in my palm...
...I poke you with one forefinger...
...You scratch with wrong-sized claws...
...Suspiciously you pop open your watermelon-seed eyes.-seed eyes...
...Then I feel you, tiny thing, slowly trusting the warmth of my hands...
Vol. 102 • May 1975 • No. 5
