LITTLE DARK ONE

For kitty

 

Glenn was a Hoddle, Dean

Was a James. I was a rebel

Without a memory, a uni-

verse day the little dark

one swam into my view.

 

A woman in the next cubicle

Curtained off, screaming ‘ya

Bastard, ya bastard’.  ‘I wouldn’t

Mind but that’s her seventh’, said

The midwife in the green gown.

 

I had been there twice before ark-

ward, immature and embarrassed

Nothing to say but push, breath, darling.

There to hold you, words fall away.

His sun kissed jet black hair wafting blond

Like blossom in the cold light of day.

 

               

Six hours of labor and we were emotionally

Exhausted.  I drove home through the lonely

Rounabouts to a still house and climbed into

An empty bed, I was drifting off until. Name

entered my mind.  The bed was covered in

encyclopedias, dictionaries, name books,

wide eyed I flicked through writers

Artists, scholars, for a name to jump

Off the page.  Then I remembered

The petals of labia majora opening

And the sudden change from black

Hair to blond, free as in water.

A kaleidoscope of color, light

In my tears.

 

I scanned a name book A, B, C, D,

E, F, G, H, I, J, KERN (little dark one).

I closed my eyes and fell over.