16 

I remember when I held you

in my body.

Underneath layers

of flesh and bone you shook

and multiplied.

You introduced me to my own Matter,

Latin for Mother.

When you ripened inside of me

the Earth shook us,

made a fault line in my skin.

Together we let go and

into my arms you arrived.      

I watched you this morning

pulling your hooded sweatshirt over your

Fire Red head.

You stand inches over me.

My baby.

You smile at your silly Mama, correct my driving

and ask me to not sing in the grocery aisle.

You forget that you rode the curve of my rib cage

and slept on the hum of my spine.

But I do not.

pirate

You arrived two weeks late,

mama was a capsized ship,

I should have known there was a pirate in my midst.

Your Daddy and I dosed your genes

in melodies, travel,

rebellion and wonder.

Here to ask questions, here to shake up the status quo.

You made our bold brew fizzle

and pop. Brilliant and Brother,

Seer of soulful things.

What will 13 bring,

you sailor,

you captor of

my heart?

Xanthe Alexis