Everglades
—After “Eclipse” by Rose Marie Cromwell
God holds my baby by her ankle
Dangles her from a cloud.
She is a thickened fawn
Contorting in his grip
Taut and winding over the scrubby trees below.
My baby came to me from the forest.
As she fell I think I caught her.
Yes, I caught her as she fell
Through the pines
And low-lying fever palm.
Dusk settled like a fog around our ankles.
God let go and I caught her.
A door opened in the forest ceiling.
She pushed it aside easily
All round arms
And brown curls
Still wet from the clouds.
The door crinkled like a brown tarp
In the wind.
She hovered there for a moment
Then her wings failed
And I dove.
We stand here now, darkness up to our chins.
I’m wading through the night forest
With her on my shoulders
Blinking at the starlight.
by Annik Adey-Babinski
from Poetry, June 2021