Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald

Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival.  New statue.

In a drafty museum, your

Shadows our safety.  We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own

Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your

Flickers among the flat pink roses.  I wake to listen:

A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and

In my Victorian nightgown.

Your mouth opens clean as a cat's.  The window

Whitens and swallows its dull stars.  And now you

Your handful of notes;

The clear vowels rise like balloons.