They lay there in the sleeping mats, ten babies
left out of rooms somewhere,
what words can I write here
what can another human say,
this is the life we weave, the ways we are when no one
is watching. I hold the baby close to my skin.
There is no difference between one child and the other.
Now I know.
Biology and Adoption. There is no difference between natural and
special deliveries, except what we conceive in the secret beds of our life.
Except what we deliver in the way we see each other.
Except in the way we all die. Only that differs,
I love the way we are, this that and the other.
The way our blood flows, the same red. Thicker than gold or silver,
than velvet or silk, or ink, or roses and brothers.
Yeah the way our Blood flows…