The Child

A poem is a salt

Column fully formed

Rising from the Dead

Sea of your

Body that has

Constituted your

Psyche for a long

Time, perhaps even

Before your birth

So don’t be hasty with

It, because it is not yet

Yours until you

Bring it up like a midwife

Even then, it won’t know

Your name, will

Reach out for its mother

And disinherit

You from the lineage

Though a child

Will always be your

Child, have your

Sentient flavor, and

Cannot but resist

Coming when called