To the determined
mum, breast-feeding 
against buses, fuzz
faced, lonesome 
in that way all new 
mothers are- 
I love you. Outside

A man cycles by with
no hands.

Thoughts as 
concrete, quiet 
full as milk. 
Your baby is a lump
of sugar, a ripped
corner from the 
entire universe.

People drink coffee
like nothing is happening.

You will go home
to an unmade bed, the hum
of the washing machine-
Rich Tea. Sometimes
you will feel as if you are
made from glass, your
tiny barnacle a hammer.

Seagulls, with bodies like bullets
wheel happily in grey skies.

Some days you 
stare at the changeling,
this thing from outer space-
the love in you hard and
fierce as the outside,
as difficult and 
wondrous and real.