Adjustment br br My children have been words. Words were children. br Phrases fat and thin that lined the fragile field. br Verbs, nouns, adverbs caught flirtatiously; br Thoughts just fancied. br br Than the slow half-recognition and br An act of love: br “I cannot leave you, cannot snuff you out; br Unformed you lie, remembered kisses br And caresses.” I could not reject, br br So consummation and the rarer spark br That gave you form br And me the will to pen br Would fill the field br And grow tumultuously: limbs, organs, eyes and speech br And flowering personality. br Once born, that burden’s mine… br And mine no longer. br br Now… the womb within me br Swollen waits to give me not a br Phrase, a poem or philosophy. br It swells with life! br Now uttered thoughts br Will be an animal br Of warmth, pulsating flesh, such br Speech and longings that no one yet br Conceived in words. So faced with this br Reality, my words have gone. I wait br For more substantial life. And yet br Once born, the burden’s mine…. br And mine no longer.