Married with children:
An aubade

One foot in mouth.
This is not figuratively speaking,
or an erotic reminiscence of a fetish,
but an alarm going off
at six something AM,
a sharp kick in the head
from a body so small.

We were told attachment parenting
all the way—

a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch,
a cub hiding beneath her mother’s copious flesh and fur,
just like in nature

so they grow up to be well-adjusted adults.

Turn.Smack.
Wriggle. A scream

piercing the morning-night.
No bed big enough for

check: Two adults
check: Two children
under the age of two.

The husband/father turns to his side,
desperately clinging onto and clawing a three-inch spot
at the edge.

The wife/mother writhes out from underneath
the horizontal mess of tiny limbs and milk breath.

stay asleep stay asleep stay asleep
phew.

She thinks of how the bed used to speak of
passion, romance, kinky play, deep peaceful sleep,

but now the bed shrieks of
piss, sour milk, vomit, Country Floral Lysol, and sleepless nights of
who knows whose finger is lodged in my eyeball now?

She arranges her angels
1, 2, and yes 3,
all in a row,
anoints warm foreheads with a kiss,
and remembers who she is on the couch.

 

© Brandy Lien Worrall(-Yu)
http://www.livejournal.com/users/podbrandy
http://www.myspace.com/brandylien