Aria

Since my surrender to the cadenza
Of the spear minted midwives
You swing inside me like a village hall bell
Tugged by the surgeon squire
My legs your tower
The beautiful melody your name
Aria, your first cry tolls
The opera of the operating theatre halts
A breeze against my mouth
The clouds crawl in through my window
Your father slightly stooped
Like five past six against the face of the sky