by Steven Huff

Little egg, you have grown so much for so long in the full moon
globe of the womb--
You will not know of watching your mother waddle from room to room.
Not know of my days in bed, mind hazy,
not realizing you will be real.
How I could briefly no
longer feel and thought what a favor
I would do for you,
brothers and sisters, too--
If I left, the way madmen tend to do,
eyes blanking out, raised to the white
eternal sky--
The heaven of doom I've seen
in my dreams...

Little egg, you come, into our rooms, Come singing your living wail for joy--
I am here, small egg, near Mama's belly, the full moon globe holding you, your womb.
Ready to sing, and live,
for you.

S. Huff 2/2001