i was as productive

as a poet can be

those months in san francisco

with baby supporting me

in her apartment

on the corner

of california and divis

on top of the wild hare

a bar that shut down

and the bakery with

a constant twenty person line

i say months because

it has only been five

or maybe a few days more

but not even a half-year

and i talk in the past tense

from the perspective of

an old poet

in another city

having lost baby

because i see that to be

the probable outcome

by no will of my own

but the will of the world

that has moved my life

up to this point

for the most part