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Poem	I am only nineteen My whole life is changing Tonight I see her Shuttered eyes in my dreams I cannot pretend she's never been My stitches pull and threaten to snap My own body a witness Leaking blood to sheets milk to shirts My stretch marks Record that birth Though I feel like somebody is dying I stand up in my bed And wail like a banshee II On the second night I shall suffocate her with a feather pillow Bury her under a weeping willow Or take her far out to sea And watch her tiny six pound body Sink to shells and re shape herself So much better than her body Encased in glass like a museum piece Or I shall stab myself Cut my wrists steal some sleeping pills Better than this-mummified Preserved as a warning III On the third night I toss I did not go through those months For you to die on me now On the third night I lie Willing life into her Breathing air all the way down through the corridor To the glass cot I push my nipples through Feel the ferocity of her lips IV Here Landed in a place I recognize My eyes in the mirror Hard marbles glinting Murderous light My breasts sag my stomach Still soft as a baby's My voice deep and old as ammonite I am a stranger visiting Myself occasionally An empty ruinous house Cobwebs dust and broken stairs Inside woodworm Outside the weeds grow tall As she must be now V She, my little foreigner No longer familiar with my womb Kicking her language of living Somewhere past stalking her first words She is six years old today I am twenty-five; we are only That distance apart yet Time has fossilised Prehistoric time is easier I can imagine dinosaurs More vivid than my daughter Dinosaurs do not hurt my eyes Nor make me old so terribly old We are land sliced and torn.
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