Friday, January 11, 2008

Three








Sylvia Plath wrote these words ("Morning Song") on the birth of her daughter:


Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

4 comments:

Krissy said...

Happy Magnificent Birthday you Beautiful Lou!

And congratulations, Lori mama. She's here! She's gorgeous and happy! That's three full years of unmitigated success!

Congratulations to the whole lot of you.

Anonymous said...

On the celebration day of our Charlotte's birth,once again Thanks to you and Peter for our Loubee. One day you will know the pure joy of being the mother of the mother.
Birthday Kisses for the Lou to the moon and back!
TMOY

Sri said...

She has the most beautiful smile in the world!

Lori said...

Thank you so much for the well-wishes. It does feel like an accomplishment to be the Lou's mother, although she is wonderful all one her own with no help from me....