You advise me that we are going Wandering. I organise a demonstration in protest But go as you command.
And that’s me – your teacher, Here before you and what I demand Is to step back a little from yourself,
I am full but emptiness will still gust through me I am full but longing will drip a moment before the new mother’s retreat.
Her own indications give her A feeling.
Grasping the gates, Hunched over Fielding cries after the pain caught within her Something is opening.
I rose early tied by a cord to your wellbeing Which is unknown, To forty hidden days To the fear of gathering clues that go to waste.
If you’re going to pay city taxes At least find a see-saw, Stand in line beside the girls With ponytails and wait
Tonight, it’ll happen, you say The hopes will smithereen, People are already counting backward
Before a baby comes into the cot, They leave her in the field To listen to the jackals and peacocks, To store up dew and sweltering
I’ve no defences for her and her hands don’t fortify me.