Milky Way Nine Patch
Star-bellied and spangled with stretch marks,
my mother in her 38th week
pulls the threads of a galaxy.
In the barn-night my father wilts
over a kidding goat,
snaps his own terrestrial tethers.
Rock of Ages and the rocking needle,
they sing me, lull and scrape.
Above, dark heat boiling,
below only light, cold and pure
I, yet unmade, roil in my mother