Conception

BY Natasha Kessler

:

I have conceived a name for morning,
gathered babies from cribs
and placed them on window sills.

Wrapped in blankets, 
little dark stones.

::

Because our eyes are eggs, 
every time you blink
you give birth—

beautiful new birds.
When mine die falling,
they die falling.

:: :

The cat keeps
a repository of feathers
near the door.

It wipes feathers
from its mouth
before dipping its hands into me.

:: :: 

a quiet room
a quiet bed

a woman sinks
her children in the river. 

Ghost Ocean
6

Natasha Kessler is a graduate student in the University of Nebraska’s MFA program and she co-edits the online poetry journal Strange Machine. Her work has appeared in Sugar House Review, RealPoetik, Sixth Finch, and is forthcoming in Blue Mesa Review and Puerto del Sol.