Room For Drowning
She has no sense
Of direction:
Her weepings are swallowed
By the lottering deep
And in the pain of time
That fills her fertile form
She does not know
If she swims up or down.
Each moment
Her vital room expands
And squares her cube
By the inverse of ignorance:
She will have no sense
Of direction,
Will not span the spin
Of parent to gain--
Only mistrayed-strokes
And room for drowning
In the sea of Life.
...we had to bury a child.