sunlight bathes in the sky,
morning cleans the stagnant
projections of the mind-
road twists,
bows beneath the pressure,
arches back and orgasms
a destination.
sunday paper arrives
two days late,
or am i just four days early-
dreamt last night i carried your child,
the birth came too early, you blamed me
for the miscarriage.
take my child away
i am unfit,
i am not worthy to
bear the pregnancy of
the future king-
a virgin knocked up,
who would believe?
i said it was a miracle,
you said it was just a dream.
i look at you,
scared little boy,
almost tall enough to pass as
a gentle man-
spinning around theidea
of our children in your head.
maybe we could move beside the ocean
and pay our tithing to the boiling fire-set
maybe we could live deep in the country,
a native country where no one
would know our names and
we'd learn to speak the language-
maybe we could love each other,
just barely enough to be more
than we are alone