i had a baby with a woman who makes enough money playing abstract electronic music so that i don’t have to get a job and can put the baby in a sling or a pouch and walk around with it all the time

i said the words
“my dad has been dead
for more than
16 years”
and this could only be
made palatable by
a synthesizer
being played at
the same time.

more than 16 years is
a long time
but not as long as
death so it is
a requirement that
the synthesizer
play a note or
a sound or
a hum and
give itself to
a sustaining.

16 years long and
death short and
the room behind
your ears filling
with the note or
the sound or
the hum that
holds itself and
will not leave,
though it will
change.

and she and i
were in that room
together
where i was saying
those words and
she was pulling
and stretching
the sound and we
did not say anything
to each other but
i was soon inside
her and quickly
it was decided that
as she was also
in me, we
would together be
human and
create human.

a baby is
only yours for
a short period of time.
much less than
16 years but
much longer than
death.
and a baby is
only yours for
such a short time
so you never go
to work or
maybe it is that
every day you work
to be with the baby
all day and so soon
it will no longer be
yours.
so you want to be
with it while it is
yours, and
you want to be
with it once it no longer is.

the note or
sound or
hum that was
given by her
and to her and
that she stretched
and kneaded and
layered and
dripped over top
of your words and
then she layered
and dripped
over top of you.

you can’t speak,
either of you,
much about the baby.
it is best not to say
much about it.
the words you speak
and the sounds she makes
and the baby that is
only yours for
such a short period
of time.
but far longer
than death.
but not nearly
as long as
that note or
that sound or
that hum.

it is sustaining itself
and you
and her.
it is
deteriorating
and it is
changing.
it isn’t a time
to speak about it,
the baby,
no.
it is a time
to empty yourself
while you fill.
and then the baby
is here and
yours for such a
short time and
you spend all your time
with it.
and you can
speak freely
about it.
the sound or
the note or
the hum
it always sustains.
before your dad
died. after you
die.
long before the
baby came
into your room
and so much longer
than death could
ever even
conceive.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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