To Pat and the other first born
The tug came first and then the kick
Melting everything into that one long
morning retch;
You saw first with your new eyes and even
newer lashes
Her insides red and dark like waves, rising
and falling within its raw stretch.
She held in her a sea that moved
Taking you in its quiet, measured tides;
All her world that came rushing to you
which you ate up in your gulps-
Dancing among the crests and troughs,
moving as she moved sides.
There is dance that began in her and ended
in you;
Breathed in bits of sky that came out in
quaint little tunes
A long hurried wave of frenzies and tunes
washed down by her waves-
She sang out low and sang out loud as your
reds danced into her blue.
One day her song was too loud and the dance
too wild
You shivered and opened out your digits she
planned to touch and count.
Your mouth opened wide and spat out her
blue-
Ears locked, eyes shut, feet refusing to
dance around to that sound.
The sound blue makes when it misses its
red,
The sound red makes when its blue parts
ways
The sound of retches, the sound of cries;
Sounds clocking the end of nights, sounds
timing the start of days.
You tumbled through the dark no one had
seen;
Glimmering in your all your reds- fresh and
bright,
While bits of blue floated around lost
And leaked into feeding her nights.
Tears live on saltwater, on every bit she
drinks;
Tears are meant to be held in seas and
never seen.
And tides are meant to keep moving forever
slinking in their own shade of blue-
Always managing a little dance danced to
the reds that have been, reds bathed in her own hue.
