Now we come to the birth.
This is difficult for me, I mean,
because I got to act like the child here.
It's going to be a tough one.
Afternoon of March 21st, I helped Gabriella
into our Falcon, and we drove to the preplanned route
to the midwife's house.
Contractions, push, breathe, harder and harder.
I dabbed her forehead with a cool washcloth squatted
with her, told her jokes about Texas.
Arched back, strain the spine, swelled
pelvis, fingers clenching sheet, fertility dance a woman.
Surge up, plunge down, grit teeth then a muzzled deep drum
beat groan.
And from blood net and bone bed, burst
lamb, flesh guts that slip surge brown baby into my hands
as I kissed his wet head and welcome my son
Pablito into the world.
And then I stepped outside on the porch.
Storm had subsided.
Black leaves stuck to red bricks,
moon shimmering medallions.
Oh mijito, you were a long, green tree
limb in another world.
When Gabriella and I made love, wind, heave and wind
of our bodies plundered you and you came to us.
And now roam with blood gorged feelings
in the clearing of mama's stomach rest
your body as you nibble at the dark grass of her breast.
I went inside, took Pablito from Gabriella
to let her sleep and rest, circled my arm
around your body Pablo.
As we slept in the bed next to mama, I promised you
and all living things I would never abandon you.
It gets better.