day/poem 4

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--the first naming, every time--

these are men whose hands have held babies, countless
rough hewn, oversized, seeming ungainly
but cradle newborns gentle as mothers
and whisper those first words into perfect shells, miniature
as yet unused to sounds other than that thumping inside sea
primal accompaniement to first sleep
woken by the summons, the declaration
'god is greatest, god is greatest
come to success, come to success'

Comments

  1. Linda17 April 2011 at 01:07

    not sure how you are coming up with a mini masterpiece each day, but you seem to be gettign on quite well : )

    ReplyDelete

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