Dot

Yellow is the loveliest colour,

All radiance

And sunlight

Surging down in great,

Delicious waves.

But on days like this,

When everything is green

And the clouds are flowing over

And under,

I think of you,

Sad little dot,

Dying while we happily

Imagined which

Parts of whose face

You would inherit.

We saw you

In there, you know -

It was my birthday and you

Were barely a shape

At all.

The quiet room was a lung,

The window an eye,

Perhaps an ear.

The pitying midwives

Drove us crazy.

Afterwards

We walked

By the shallow river,

And watched the clouds

Flowing over

And under

Everything, green and

Desolate, perplexed

By the infernal

Waiting.