Idiolexicon: 2/6/2007

Matt Mason

Watching the Horizon

The baby’s heart beats
like Siamese fish mouths
on the black and green computer screen.

The OB tech says
“It has four chambers.
That’s good.”

The mouths open,
close, open, close,

then the monitor trembles,
landscapes fill chalky black
hills and curves, two footprints

transform into a skull’s eyes and nose-hole,
then whisp, ghost,
strange caverns, this,

my son or daughter, hands
up like a boxer, feet
by those fists like a mystic, person

floating in and out of view:
there’s femur,
there’s spine,

there are palms shading
the face which surfaces
through the wrong side of the head;

intrusive look,
we stare through
thick fog

of womb,
we stare
at the shape,

at the shape
just coming in
to view.

Matt's new book, Things We Don't Know We Don't Know, is available from Backwaters Press.


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