upon awakening to light
the disguised sun
in that robotic hospital room
someone held him up
exhibiting him to the flash
of my husbandís hold on the camera
eye-browless, the puffiness around his eyes
swollen with sight
and marked with the residue of his placenta,
a souvenir on film,
of his turbulent prenatal matrix
that worries me
but makes me feel
as grand as the world
that revolves around this awesome baby
what am I supposed to be?
I must pray for myself too..
Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary!
His voice speaks to me
emerging from a great big smile
on this pale infantís bright-colored
toungue loose and peeking thru
His first smile,
or is it a grin?