Morning Song

“Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls...

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear...”

Sylvia Plath


...Justo esto
pudo haber dicho
quien se dice mi madre
hace 236,520 horas
aproximadamente...

rejoice, rejoice...
cake and wine for all...