Scene from a Hospital Window
The sun ascends as one
rising from the sickbed, shaking
the cotton clouds loose as death-shrouds.
The moon slips from the horizon
like a newborn from his mother,
a new world in constant revolution
around the two moons she calls breasts.
Mercury the midwife ushers
the child from one world to the next
with a slap to clear the air between them.
So the child’s genitals descend
from his heavenly loins as Seraphim alight
to fix even the smallest worlds in place.
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