Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Newborn

A chunk of gold
from a newly excavated ore,
I am a hit!

Still, I shall need an alloy
--an ally really--
to make me stand up
straight
without the cane,
for now I can endure
the heat or the ice
or the tightness
of any storm,
and my eyes see
without the light
or the glasses.

Pleased with what I can remember,
delighted with what I forgot,
the tasks I used to complete
I don’t need to start.

I do not plead, or apologize,
or state my case,
and I do not whisper
to balance my breath,
but I yell to raise Cain,
and throw away
comforters.

For I am a newborn
into old age,
embracing
my metal. (mettle? )