for M

First love’s best, love.
You, days from the womb, already master
of the long jaw-movement; me,
near thirty, still seeking where I might fit
in every bone of your face.

I watched
over the sterile blue drape—
that first startled breath, before the blue
body’s rest slipped out of her
slit belly. Then, you cried,

but where the cord wrapped
twice around that ox-like neck,
there’s not a mark to show.

As if life hadn’t hung
on a strapped
piece of flesh. As if, floating in the dark,
those eyes hadn’t first
opened and grown wise.

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David Ayers

David Ayers lives in Atlanta, Georgia with his wife and three children. He is the Prose Editor for Avatar Review and current president of the IBPC, the InterBoard Poetry Community. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Del Sol Review, Melic Review, MiPOesias, can we have our ball back?, and DINER. For more information visit dummy.

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© 2006 David Ayers