To a Son, Before His Birth

Six months
with your red knot
of life within me,
and still sometimes
it turns
and the womb-light
catches a silver strand
of sorrow
that I cannot untangle
from the rest of you.

It begins to teach me—
and I begin to learn—
this wire will remain
sewn in me
after you leave

         and leave again

                      and leave

                                  yet another way.

This is your leaving:
the thread you weave
night after night in my skin.