csak eszembe jutott, mert rábukkantam erre greenwood angolul, és akkor gondoltam itten van, na, oridzsinál:)

morning Song

love set you going like a fat gold watch.
the midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
took its place among the elements.

our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
in a drafty museum, your nakedness
shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

i'm no more your mother
than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow
effacement at the wind's hand.

all night your moth-breath
flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
a far sea moves in my ear.

one cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
in my Victorian nightgown.
your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
your handful of notes;
the clear vowels rise like balloons.