New Born Poem by David Johnson

In my mind I cut out your shape
and attempt to gage your weight.

A small bag of meat your are, warm and full.
I feel you cover my upper chest, asleep.

A little wing flaps within your chest and
your battery is perhaps in some way
tied to your new born soul.

Unseen but felt.

Though you're asleep,
exhausted, I chase you around in my mind.

The flap in me, thunderous, teaching
the flap in you how to fly and be free.

Again, I close my eyes and try to feel you
lying on the upper portion of my chest
like a bag of warm red apples
perhaps with a moth inside fluttering madly about.

Live as long as you can.
Until your eyes stay closed and black, as mine will at eighty-eight.
Until then, become my skin, you are safe.
let us dead'n the deep pitch of night
and applaud togetherness,
because for you my child are mine
just as I am yours.