Today in a beam of sun
the baby’s eyelashes had gold in them
and closed down on his cheek.
Then clouds then sleet:
April is fickle and all the world
is blowing, full of change.
The baby holds my breast in his hand.
The baby holds a goldfinch in his hand.
The baby holds a piece of cloth against my cheek
as if I were the crying one.
This Issue
December 18, 2025
Andrew O’Hagan
The Soundtrack of a Generation
Jed S. Rakoff
It’s a Racket!
Annette Gordon-Reed
Jefferson Divided
This Issue
December 18, 2025
Andrew O’Hagan
The Soundtrack of a Generation
Jed S. Rakoff
It’s a Racket!
Annette Gordon-Reed
Jefferson Divided
