Any Day Now

Any day now, the contractions will start:
The earth will stop moving on its tilted axis,
making permanent day for you but night for me,
and catastrophic changes in the weather,
meaning the end of harvest pumpkins and Alfonso mangoes
born of these oblique, traveling seasons
of sun and rain and moon.

Any day now
I expect a rude awakening--at least, I hope so,
followed by that pleasant sensation
And the nose of the little gremlin will be out,
out smelling the world as it spins
or doesn't spin, rains and doesn't rain, and shakes
in the tilt of earthquakes
and the many spinning hurricanes that flow
from a cradle, endlessly rocking

Tomorrow the world may turn to mush
as the permafrost melts into swamp
and the widening gyre of violence unfolds all around
But whatever he is, will be, out of my impatience
I want to name him now, perfection,
fulfillment, life, birth, love, hope--
all the daylight songs.

[This has been slightly revised.]