This New Thing
These first moments, so fiercely held –
is it possible, this thing I’ve done?
I’ll hold you fast awhile, let the world’s
pull wait; in one sense you’re lost, gone
already – what’s left is love and dread
in equal measure.
Hear me, new shape
stuck to mine, small unsuspecting head
at my breast, I see a familiar landscape
we might walk together,
but the circuit
is not drawn, I have no map.
Dear brave thing, since our orbits
may spin side-by-side, overlap,
give me some sign I am good
enough – new mother to your newhood.