Ode to My Child
Morgan Gu
You exit me
a feral creature,
coated in thin blood and rancid honey.
I cradle you in my arms,
on a chair due north in the shades,
in fear that the careless moonlight
will singe the fondant varnish
off your pristine face.
I weep mutely at night.
The cotton wings of gypsy moths
whose harmless flutter
ceases abruptly mid July.
Filling your shallow dimples
my cloying tears
I watch you, half dreaming
in the rapturous restlessness
of your tender-taken breath.
My love, my faultless lamb
I must raise you a heretic
you were birthed in wickedness
but bear no sin but mortality.