The baby at my breast displays

manners of an astronaut [title

case —italics] —the poet’s face

clean in greyscale.
The baby’s face is opening

towards milk & sensation, close

reading—that is to say

resemblance budding
in the double I/eye

of those beholding—precluding

the book’s jacket & its poet.

My friend says sleep

when the baby sleeps, clean

when the baby cleans. Only

later do I think to figure

the corporal from domestic
(at least ostensibly). I’d like to cue:

‘Ladies & Gentlemen We Are

Floating in Space’. Other moments

Karen O’s expression
in song & acronym

to A— her shining face

through each slide

of voice & saline; red
profusion of mouth in the pop

and soar towards please

(stay). Say anything

inside another
word: letter to letter— Later,

the baby sleeps & I will

emote, emit enough

for everyone.