My Baby Fell Apart

My baby fell apart, and I could see
It was a simple version of surrender.
There was no baby left inside of me.

I learned something alone when suddenly
The baby bent in a way I could not bend her.
My baby fell apart, and I could see

Her falling through a loud internal sea
Away from the one place that still kept tender.
With no baby left inside of me,

I came apart; I couldn't even be
There for the loss. I lost my need to mend her
When my baby fell apart, and I could see

Something of her who fell away from me,
But nothing to make me ever need to tend her.
There was no baby left inside of me.

I had no baby. I could only see
The need to be apart from her, to end her.
My baby fell apart, and I could see.
There was no baby left inside of me.

First published in Snakeskin, 2005