Every day I come awake  in the tilled
world  she successfully imagined
leaving  while her little son

made  macaroni necklaces
at day camp  her mind slanted
away  the father had not

spoken  when she mailed a copy
of the sonogram  little blackpearl
knew the depths  her lists

the lilies  end of July  still wearing
the newsboy cap  carrying a patchwork
purse  the lab notebook

she always wrote in  meat rice
melon  filling his sweet belly
salmon  cherries

she had taken the vitamins  averted
her eyes near knives  knocked
on doors  trying to borrow a Bible

she took him with her  cannot
let my own mind  rest
the little body she had  so lovingly

bathed and cared for  carried
I would see her  just once again
walking  through the palace

of an ordinary  grocery store
hurrying toward me  waving
bringing him  by the hand