Beyond black window panes
robins trill light to fill
the edges of morning. A peace
now, and an ease.
The baby's cheeks wax milk-round
fed by secret sources. Twinned streams
thread through the playa, the only clue --
ferns wavering their tightly curled fists.
Lids shift with womb-dreams still.
Wings unravel the arid night
until his eyes recognize it all, surface,
cerulean pools wide.
Kristin Berger lives in Portland, OR with her husband and two young children. Her poetry and non-fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Alimentum, CALYX, Literary Mama, New Letters, The Pedestal Magazine, and VoiceCatcher, among other publications. Her first chapbook of poems, For the Willing
(Finishing Line Press, 2008), has been nominated for the 2009 Oregon Book Award. You may visit her blog at kristinberger.wordpress.com. You can read more poetry from Kristin here, here, and here and her essays here and here.
