Janmashtami child

When you open your baby mouth there is no tongue

just universes clustering on and on –

a chasm of diamonds

to dive into.

When I rock your swing on the day of your birth,

anoint your forehead with vermillion smears

your face falls away

into sweetness.

When I drop my flowers at your baby feet

there is no end to the petals that float

on a gasp as they fall

like light.

When I wave camphor flames around your face

your infinite, secretive smile

gives nothing away

about the place from which you came