Astronomy, Day Four

For Son of Slam 3, round 4. About the day my son was born....

When finally the doctors sigh,
speaking masked amongst themselves,
and cut you
         howling
out of me, I am but a writhing animal,
drugged and brazen-blind by dazzling lights.

Then there are pillows, and silence,
and you are sleeping on my chest

and suddenly I have a star, and the moon,
and everything else unceasingly celestial…
my view so clear I memorize the shape
of every constellation.