21
two poems by adam grabowski
two months out
We broke apart the crib and framed it around
her rib cage, to hull her wild infant heart.
Out here on the water our hair tangles
with hers, we're growing out of her control.
Can we admit that keeping something alive is killing us?
That nail we keep fixing just brings on more water
is it better if one of us sits over there?
I know I'm not listening how can I listen
her breathing is my mist is our breath is this fog
can we break apart while she's sleeping?
This lighthouse of monitor static
its pulse of red cuts in a swath across
our bedroom. Listen to every dip and rise,
is this storm coming or going?