Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The First Born

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.