Third Stone
That was the year
my sister’s water broke, tears filled her eyes
and a girl pushed and pulled, then
popped out.
blue
then pink
with that first warm breath
and screaming, like a siren into the night…
That was the year
my wife glanced down through glazed spheres
blood-shot against a barren land
and somersaulted
to Earth,
striking sidewalk
head
first.
Mirrored in her doll’s eyes,
our littlel girl:
for nine months a vision of happiness, longing
a love so strong, so deep
so blue
so cold
so still.
Two chiseled stones stand
side by side,
one big
the other
small.
Two stones
gray like the instant
before mother hit
sidewalk…
gray like her baby’s face.
I play peek-a-boo
with my sister’s baby princess
giggling
like the hysteric before that final jump.
but she
is
alive
and
i
am
the
third
stone.