i left the amniotic starship
landing on candlewick bedspread
unseen behind lace curtains
a sheltered birth,
dad notched his baseball bat
i was number three,
his way of memory
like folded candy wrappers
that something special,
a silent childhood
passed in grey school solitude
born invisible,
home the only place
colors came into appearance
becoming animation
voices and gestures
of laughter and song,
we breathed from
leonard cohens lungs
songs that filled the complete
with mothers long fingered
touch that was protective,
as a notch on a baseball bat
i would not be whittled away,
looking back
i could only think of the
new colors i had found
in my own home
velvetmedia 