Eli Carvajal - Incubabies

Two months too soon
Two cries in the night
Two weights from the womb
We grow we feed
Milk teeth young gums seething
Each waving ten little claws
Just enough strength to applaud
Our 40-year-old
5 feet and 1
And-a-half inches Mom
Incubabies
Little temperature regulated
By Mr Edison, Con
She'll hold her sons
Her hand in a glove
And a song on her tongue
Reverent melody
In her own mother's memory
Rising
Finding its rest in the wreck
Of the old dredged-up tule marshes
Seven then meant family
Past the valleys and gatherers
The Volkswagen roared
Blood of the orange tree
Running over Yosemite's feet
And under the door
So Mama sang
Finger to each little hand
Seven long weeks before
We were meant to be born
Though her mothering was
Far from premature

Written by:
Eli Carvajal

Publisher:
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