To something beautiful flapping in the wind above thebeach houses—A blue bird?—No, a blue bag.To her breath— raindrops in the begonia bed.My eyesight is rainstorms.                  Drop.                                                        drop—To 4 a.m., her first ocean—Everyone is sleepingexcept Oona and the ocean,Oona and the ocean.I try to explain in whale song I try to explain incloud and water droplet.                                     Drop, drop—Spending time with a baby is spending time with somethingthat has lived her entire life in an ocean and just sproutedlegs for land—I am Copernicus using the planet of my bodyto umbrella the windas she feeds—Ouch!—I stick my fingers in her mouthand she’s grown sharp little fish teeth—                                                        Drop,Everyone is sleeping except Oona and the ocean,Oona and the oceanand the little fish teeth.                                                     Drop,                                                                                      drop,                                     drop                 drop,I tell time by counting teeth-marks around the crookednipple.