there's a word for naming in praise but I can't remember what it is. instead I kiss your head where you banged it. don't be angry, sweetheart. maybe you thought my shins were together but they were not. and you pushed your head through to be in me, on me, I receive. even if I'm in the other room picking up a facecloth, I receive. even if you knock your sweet plain forehead against the slate. kiss it better. snuggle right in. clouds will sweep away the hurt until we're peach faced. kiss it better - chipped and banged words and now they're mine.