I decry the manner in which my world / was ransacked after dark, / by you, ghostly marauder / (bearded with ash, shrugging / shoulders of mould, eyes / gleaming deadwood) // You scuttled roughshod, / cunning as rust, combing the fields / for my daughter until— / wife procured—you plummeted / to your replica earth. And she, / like a pearl impaled / on a hook.
My son held a bird / today on a class trip to the nature center. / At home, with an empty hand, he demonstrates / how to hold a bird using just three fingers / so as not to hurt the bird and / so it can’t hurt itself with its flapping.
Every week at birth class it’s the same / story the same flooding as we watch / a grainy movie of our long-awaited journey— / darkened sanctum heave and sweat / naked woman half-reclining / midwives kneeling rubbing soothing
We relocated the plants today– / disrupted whole ecosystems / unseen to our eyes. / We had to make room / for the new extension. / The gardener said / the plants might not take root / in their new soil– / but we had to take a chance.
I carried my four-month-old / through my father’s field / along sunny mud walls. / At first I pointed, / saying the names of things– / bee, red willow, crab apple– / then I thought, what’s the hurry / in naming the world?