" What Bears No Weight (A Letter To My Sister) "
In my dream last night I wore two pockets around my neck.
The first opened to a daughter made of clear petals.
She was like air floating through our fingers.
I named her yours and we were happy
because she was something and if we shaped our hands
around her head as a cradle we could almost feel
the soft spot on her skin.
The other pocket broke into two sons
the first healthy, screaming like a man
the second, his mouth stuffed with blood
like your son born when I was awake
and there was no way to close my eyes.
But in this dream, he is mine
and I remove the dark mucus from his mouth.
He breathes, a small fish begging for air.
I want to hand these children over to your body
like rain to dry land. Yet in this place
I know what is yours and what is mine.
I nurse the two boys on the tips of my breasts
while you rock the air with a daughter
who bears no weight.
© 2003 Treezaa ( T. E. Ballard)
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