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That's No Talking Gecko That's My Mama
Dream Baby Prophesy
Remember your roots, I tell the unborn child
who rolls in the jelly of invisible ovaries
which I take on faith exist.
You crawled from the sea with the turtles,
and you moved slowly to the dunes.
Remember, you found lungs
to take in oxygen from the air,
and legs to walk, and tongues
to eat and kiss and talk.
You have a body that stands on the ground,
leaps to the air and takes to flight.
No one can tell you how to move,
where to go, what to cry out
or who to love.
No one has a roadmap of your life.
When you close your eyes,
stick your wet finger in the air
and smile that quirky tilt,
you know, you know, you alone know.
I say this to the unborn child
with the olive skin and spiky black hair
to be born in the marshlands
on the edge of a tidal river
emptying back out to the sea.
There are other words from "Talking Gecko," a book of poetry by Michelle Zacks
To return to the first poem, go here.
Copyright 1994, 1995, 1996 Michelle Zacks
For more information or to contact the author, please write gecko@rootsworld.com
Anigua photo: Cliff Furnald
Turtle illustration by Ron Savage
Used by Permission
