During Baby After
As the
hermit crab grows in size, it has to find
a larger
shell and abandon the previous one.
—Wikipedia
The
baby’s asleep,
no
longer lit
by
her, but by a night light
in
the shape of a turtle.
In
a separate world,
the
turtle projects stars.
Does
the child know she loves him?
Does
she know she loves him?
A
ray stretches lazily, bluely,
across
the dresser.
A
starved star, strayed.
She
nods in rhythm,
holding
out for our heartbeat,
like
in the labor unit.
May
she forget, fog up
our
animal mind.
You
made a baby, she mutely says.
you
should be pleased,
a
vast part of you lost.
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