Your lips begin sweet lullabies:
a love made into voice
to ease a cradled child’s cries.

Loving Mother, you ask no “Why’s?”
the babe wants not her toys -
'tis lips sing out sweet lullabies.

Would come the day - I’m full of tries
to keep from her those boys
could cause my cradled child’s cries.

Your lover’s hands upon my thighs...
those days your mouth played coy;
what lips to sing sweet lullabies!

These, my unlived memories - lies
unborn and full of noise:
our gently cradled child cries.

Now - in quiet contemplation, I
unmake my every choice:
What gently cradled child cries
when my lips unsing lullabies?