My First Son

Raised a little snowflake
peppered him with pep talk and smothered him with honeyed adjectives
Nonet of moody moons phasing to
                                           phasing to
Blank canvas eyes peering nervously out from some folds in exhausted but firm arms
So I assured him 'I love you'
                                'I love you'
before thrusting him
into his own vortices
   of schoolyard bullies
   of darned training wheels
   of report card anomalies
   of rambunctious family meals

When dregs of the days of the 16th year
seep into curdling sunlight
our fanned flame voices carry off into the confines of our own sagging beds
I assure myself still 'I love him'
                               'I love him?'
                               'whom do we love?'
                               'who is he?'

When dusk opens to a 21st natal date
He lumbers into my house  like a pestered bull
    pounding his chest
    accusing me of negligence
    that he's a man like the rest
    chaffing my patience

21 orbits of al-ard,  in   consis      tently paced to
                                               paced to

Raised an accidental earthquake
whom I attempted to construct my dignity upon, to sustain a motherhood
I thought I would permit myself to try out
like a window display cashmere sweater you bring home (without reviewing the fit)
fully aware of the no return policy

When that once virginal gaze shows through some folds behind gritted teeth and a set jaw
I find the rabbit hole to a reverie
in which he understands my sadness
     so I allow him to speak
     so I embrace his impassioned youth
     so I plant a kiss on his cheek
     so I assure him 'I love you'
                                   'I love you'

and I do.
I must. 

My First Son


© Hazim Haemoglobin 2012


My First Son

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