Measure the Baby

Bevil Townsend


The smallest one around me 
concerns her heart only 
with my comings and goings—
Appearance in the doorway—safe. Disappearance—death. 
My form out of sight—the baby dissolves 
into sadness. Reappearance—apparition. We live in these minds
of multiple rooms. 
Chorus of blackbirds 
on an endless loop—
Voices flung into fistfuls of pulse—
This large organ of skin 
keeps us together. I measure the baby before she is gone.