I cradle
you, keep you warm
in the
fragrant white sheets,
to your cry
I react like a beast.
My Vanity,
with your weak
white hands
you grip my hair,
blond locks
rain on your face.
My Ferocity,
your voice is magnetic
and you put
me in a frenzy
and lock
ruby bracelets around my wrists.
My
Compassion, you tear my breast
still there
is no pain,
my brain
cells locked in a jar far away.
My Eros,
from my womb you came,
marching
down the aisle
in a blanket
of sweet dripping denial.
My little
one, how gracious you are!
You are me
as I am myself.
Your tiny
fingers seem to love my neck,
the curve of
my back,
the melody
of the crack.
Angie Siljanoska
