what we’re born into&why&why we cannot fathom things sometimes

each day births itself
with little wrinkles round the eyes
sneaking sleepy down the stairs
in a blue-striped sleepshirt

i pour coffee, barefoot in the half-dark,
not a single sound&christmas waits
outside the front door to be born
&born again//into my core

“dangit” a colleague at work
taxes me with hungry eyes in the canteen
“those shoes are hot– are you having visitors, a birthday or–?”
i had darn good sex tonite// i smile
aloud say “nah, nothing spectacular”

it’s just the feel that stays like milkstreets
on the bottom of a cup, flowers painted wild all over it
amniotic fluid on both cheeks, in the nose,
i sneeze&it feels warm&

later in the week,
prissi will be home for christmas
&i’m gonna watch her sleep
like first days, ruffled feathers in a daisy-scented breeze
alive//across the market place,
the churchtower clock strikes 3

a wintry wind blows careful
with pale lips, enveloping my chest
a dance of leaves&snowflakes, me
somewhere in between, slightly out of breath
&smiling
.

Gay has us write Birthday poems at the pub today… doors open at 3pm EST..

25 responses to “what we’re born into&why&why we cannot fathom things sometimes

  1. Love the imagery of first stanza…it makes me see our births multiplied and cascading with every morning down..’sneaking sleepy down the stairs’ ~ cool ~ nice to see the family together, enjoy! x

  2. Yes, Christmas is waiting to be born indeed. What a wonderful time of year it is for His birth and for rebirth of spirit & the spreading of joy. Cool that your daughter will soon be home for Christmas, and I love the idea that each day births itself. So true. And each day has a life of its own……and is good!

  3. … many winter birthdays in my family … celebrating them together usually … so everybody feels included and nobody feels left out … our matriarch will be 85 in January … she wants it quiet … but I know, she will dance a little bit … smiles …

  4. ha. each day…moment by moment…is a new opportunity for rebirth…to choose the moment as much as it chooses us at times…and we dont have to tell the co-worker about he great sex, but appreciate they notice the little extra glow…ha….i hope that you have a wonderful time with your little one home…even if just for a bit…

  5. I enjoyed the serene tone in your poem and the description of your early morning routine, Claudia. I like the idea that Christmas is waiting to be born again. Maybe because for me it means that we are responsible for what it ends up being like.

  6. Smiling at the wonderfulness of all these private and public births–the day, Christmas, lust and sex and feeling good, a child most of all. Wrinkling round the eyes of birth, of age–who knows or cares? Lovely.

  7. Your poetics never seem to peak, C., it just gets more immediate, welcoming,
    & dynamic. I love this one, the tender way you tip your words toward the prompt; always giving us a tiny piece of your life, sharing, hoping for reciprocity. I like the lines /it’s just the feel that stays like milkstreets/on the bottom of a cup, flowers
    painted over it/amnitiotic fluid on both cheeks; maternal, sensual, glowing, all that & so very much more; thanks & happy holidays.

  8. Delicious imagery and such a delight to read, Claudia. My favorite among favorites:

    it’s just the feel that stays like milkstreets
    on the bottom of a cup, flowers painted wild all over it
    amniotic fluid on both cheeks, in the nose,
    i sneeze&it feels warm&

  9. I quite like the effect that a day births itself – very nice, beautiful and rich details. So many elements in the day to love.

    Happy weekend Claudia – and if we don’t speak before, wish you a merry Christmas…

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