The Unpunctuated Birth

The unpunctuated confusion of early dawn 
Sun’s 
slow creep makes light linen in the birthing 
room 
The unpunctuated result of hers and mine 
love 
a simple sentence floated in the streets of cheese and 
wine 
The unpunctuated result of what she said 
she 
stepped from a closet bathroom in her 
hands 
plastic with phrases of French covered in 
urine 
her long nails stretched on past tapped on each foreign 
word 
that we did not ever have to look up 
Jes sui sure que vous serez des parents geniaux 
might 
have been said if we were not so oblivious
and 
American lighted linens mean an unending 
dawn 
now a yawn a mile wide a black abyss which we force
feed
words food and life into the unpunctuated 
Surprenant