For Leo

Not a newborn's cry, the nurse says, more cracked, strained. 
I hold no way you're supposed to sound, 
your eyes roll loosely like dice
fists pummel air in arcane circles
tubes entwine you, changeling in a bassinet—
clearly something is wrong. Just take him home 
and love him, she chirps as she closes our door.

I have no idea how to soothe you, nor do I feel
like your mother. I cry when I'm not supposed to.
I want to go back in time to meet my real baby
born into candlelit bathwater. Nothing—only a song is within 
reach. I hum "Edelweiss," but you do not look happy 
to meet me, you're shriveled and might not grow.
My voice is broken too, but I stroke you, keep singing.

One cold night pulling into our driveway, the stars catch me
by surprise. Just how many, each so far away, each
being a star. I wrest you from your car seat, 
white puffy snowsuit, you belong in space
so I hold you up, my arms outstretched like an offering:
please, fill him with your emptiness, your mystery.
He matches you, he needs you. Help me keep him
glowing here on Earth.