An ode to a child

I come from the wilderness
of life
roofed in a hazy sky
suffused in smoke.

I rise from the womb
of my mother
And she loses me
in herself,
in the pit of her stomach,
the dark alleys of life,
in its untold waters.

I,
a cathedral of bones,
flesh and skin
learn the language of
sweat, not mine
the language of hunger,
unknown,
the tongue of desire,
foreign and arid.

I,
a flower
bleed my fragrance
on dirty beds sodden
with lust
burn in blood streams of
strangers.

I,
a dark dream,
spent
to the crowded streets
lost to sight,
among casual gazes and
caustic tongues
hushed among the sounds
of my mothers nocturnal
lament.

4/18/2006 10:25 AM - First Posted