Litany at Birth

Tiny thread of me, secret strand
of my selfish heart. Beautiful unspooling.
My new periphery. Shade trees now
in the field of my vision.
My carved-out ache, my hollowing
night-time mouth. My near-
drowning, my buoyant,
buoyant girl, my surfacing,
my breath, my sudden aerial
view. My half-moon evening,
my life-split.
Crooked hem, my sweetest
seamstress, my newly
stitched and rumpled future.
My crown is you. My delicacy,
you, my pink-fingered, dark-haired
morning. My centimetered lengthening,
my fainting and my cool,
waking air. My window thrown open.
My return, second childhood,
my new-angled memory: I remember suddenly
my own cold mother, the longing,
the touching edge
of her voluminous skirts, and I marvel:
Could it be me,
my tiny alarm,
whom you are reaching for?