The tail has disappeared and this shiver
of life
swallows. Without
hunger. Without thought.
A translucent stub. A heartbeat.
Elbows, knees, fingers sculpted
from warm honeycomb.
It is an ember
with its own fire. Blueprint
of ear, eyebrow, soon
nipples, minuscule
liver. It will
squint, frown, yawn
and keep on.
When my son was born
he opened his eyes and looked all around,
no cry, so calm he could have been
a plant slowly turning
to the sun. Love!
sharp as a defib. The kick of a horse.
Now, someone the size of two olives
in a martini, tiny, skinny limbs
sticking out, is going to
put on shoes and rush
into this treacherous world, dragging my heart.