Guest Edited Poetry
To My Future Child, Concerning Your State of Birth
by Cara Dees—after Rilke
In this place, the lawmakers keep us in sight until
we leave each other.The undivided note
curled in your chest, the subtle beating
of your fists, your infiniteunawareness, how
you grow beyond these men, sounds their bones.
They can’t sleepfor the thought of you.
And yet our apartment, matchbox-small
& plumbed with lead,remains a space other
than theirs. I fashion a slim mobile
of stars for your approval,prepare your clean
blue bassinet. Life slippery with vernix, one
delicately furred,there is no part
of my bodythat does not see you.
