ode from my preverbal self

Cold facecloth slap.

I was screaming.
(you said I was)
And then I held my breath.

Vagal dive
Dive! Dive!

You said with glee.
I fixed you fast.
Ice cold cloth
Across my face.

You did not know
You sent me to the abyss.

Vagal dive

Of ether addled birth
Stuck in death.

Dive! Dive!

A life full of waiting.
for forceps to deliver me.

Que c'est triste
Interminablement
Triste.

S. Wakeman 14 september 11 (I)