I was born to the month of the
Roaring lamb, or the woolen lion
Depending on which way you turned your head
3:42 p.m.
Like somehow that time, my placement
On the clock face
Was the most notable bookmark
I do not know how the weather was
Behaving, raining or snowing
Depending on the mood
But I know the weak March sun was shinning
In on my labored mother
Past the slight warmth of noon
Before the obtuse chill of dusk
I came into the world balanced on that sun
Pale spring
Aged winter
The lion to my left
The lamb to my right
Because I came head first

The day I was born
I landed on top of the water
And was captured in the tension there
Between two things
Balanced on my sun
Marching forward