roy herndon smith

any child knows life's
a puddle for jumping into 
a muddled matter

born in a flood of 
blood, flesh, and mother water
lying still until

the alien air 
scorches into all, the world's 
a scream and a gasp

a body gently
holding comfort, and cool mud
softening the sun 

the everyday pain
of daily birth, with the splash
of everyday joy