A prose-poem, published in Ruminate magazine, issue 39, Magnificent Frailty:
Finally he slept. His infant body tangible as warm gold
rafted on my rib cage, afloat the waves of my breath. Air we shared.
Commandeered. I could almost sense the sea water ebbing in us both,
ancient beyond comprehension, shoring our thin sheathes of soil. How
strangely like oceans we are. Memories arose from trans-Atlantic flights
when exhaustion stripped my mind of blind trust in regularities and
vague comfort in statistics and aerodynamics. My naked heartbeat wobbled
like a water balloon hurled over vast seas, and for a moment my lidless
eyes beheld the world unclothed, bold in its contingency. What love
holds things for a time, then lets go? I clutched my son, falling
handless into the infinite.