Little Monkey

for Israel

little monkey up and down,
over and through until nighttime comes
and the jungle falls silent:
the hush over the trees crawls over
to the mountains, and you reach
up, using your thin fingers to keep
your grip. you hop on your mother's
back and ride up the trunks
until you see that nest of banana leaves:
your eyes are weary, little monkey,
and your mother knows the stars
will sing you to sleep. she puts you
down, your arms curled around
your torso, and the humidity
is the perfect blanket for you,
little monkey.

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