for Joseph

Two black pebbles stare
through water, through soft-curled air
of nightfall on this darkened
beach, this bed of coiled sheets
warmed by flesh and sleep.
My son, his newborn eyes

fixed on shadow-things or light
pushing through to this side
from lives ago or half-uttered prayers
as though from what he sees arise
the arms of grace that hold him.

Now his wordless tongue
flutters, a petal dappled with milk
as his almost-blue kimono
dissolves and then comes back.

In his stillness,
in the absoluteness of knowing nothing,
he breathes himself
into existence.