Where she lives

The child floating up out of her body,
hardly knew how to use
her limbs. She fed on books
and lay in grass, wondering
into the clouds. My house
not on this ground. She
built a dress of birds,
slept on a net of stars,
every now again catching
the she below—dumb,
mute and hollow.
While here she swam
the early rain,
sang daily
the dawn.