The Infant’s Eyes
Now that I too am
the terrible witness
to the ovum
and I have been
wrestled to the ground
with her fresh bread
and dirt
breath and have been
the laughing maniac
of motherhood
now
I will always
rise and go
to see what is wrong
like a cardinal to the pope.
Whenever something sounds
from upstairs
I’ll rush up
or out
or in
to see what is what
whether anyone is hurt
or in need
then I will putter back
to continue the leftover
saggy and unreal job
of aging
toward benediction.