Wednesday Poem


—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
Poetry, June 2021