conception - france
sadi ranson-polizzotti
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I can tell you the exact day.
When you and I joined
And I felt the delight of conception
And the Loire earth breathed
Deeply, sighing, and the Pressigny
Bell chimed as I called out
Your name a thousand times
And the French afternoon
Came in through the windows.
Later, we walked to Montemarte
Where we wrote and I bought
Silk slips that fluttered at my knee,
How later you marveled at my breasts.
How ripe I had grown!
Such pink to my cheeks.
This Paris was good for me.
All week, street after street,
I lit candles at every church.
Vowed I would stay. Had we
Remained it would have been.
I'm sure of it. But we took
To the plane as we had to.
Later, by months, the American
Air choked with some dark, fetid
Poison and I felt all the goodness
Cramp and fight its way out.
No mother i. Again I return,
The pale, tired girl, reaped
Of fertility while elsewhere
The death-bell tolls, the Eiffel
Bends at her knee, cries
To see such grief.
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