I entered the landscape of mood,
hid my emptiness in saggy flannel pajamas,
my hair, unwashed for days,
my face wore constant astonishment.
The tips of your newborn ears
covered in black downy hair,
your cries sliced through layers
of slumber like a seam ripper undoing stitches,
I rolled off the bed, stumbled to the crib,
viewed you like a museum exhibit:
fists and sinew.
a teenage staleness
marked our room,
at 3 a.m. we listened to radio documentaries
about dairy cows in Australia,
rocked and rocked
in a maroon glider,
you churned your own milky dreams.
I put my nose to your oily,
the earthen smell
still reeking of my womb,
your gummy mouth,
snapped at my breast.
the lights of the city,
civilized dots on the horizon
kept calling like a nagging friend
through the corner window.