Poem for an Infant Son

The little fish of life 
Came unready to the land 
His lungs unequal to the task 
Of elemental air. 
My flash of pain 
A blinding slash of light 
The one swift moment when our bodies split . . .
And that was it. 
He never had a name. 
I never saw his face. 
Though for a year 
I hated every mother in the park, 
I did not mourn my phantom child.
For that, I beg his pardon now 
For that, I finally allow . . . 
This poem.