Terra Nova
Very early in my life, it got too late
Marguerite Duras
You were a late arrival
my mother would say to me.
I was two weeks over my time
for fear of the world.
I was a red fish in my mother's womb
two extra weeks in the spawning.
Three point six kilos
she reported by radiophone to my father.
A birth-slap and
I bawled for my father.
My daughter!
My daughter!
echoed at the bow.
Fishing is fine
over and out.
Drinks for the crew that night
were all on my father.
My father slept well that night.
Six months passed before he could meet the shrimp
hanging from my mother's hook.
When he took me in his arms
I swam for the first time in the sea.
Now I realise that it was not only my tears
in all that briny ocean.
© Leire Bilbao