"Hold you, the mommy"
Rolls from your heart and unsteady limbs,
Twenty times a day, watering the roots
Of this shaking progenic fruit
I'm always surprised you love me.
My death and resurrection,
Bursting from the fertile earth,
As me but not me,
As the mommy
And not the mommy I should be.
Child of poetry,
Sweet little boy
Of fierce love and tight grips,
Hold you the mommy today and every day.
I loath the idea of motherhood subsuming me;
Yet the connection with you is nearly the base of me.
