February 2017
MURDER YOUR EGO IN ITS SLEEP
for my baby boy
I play a crucial part
in a house treasure hunting
he shoves a toy
into my lap
as if I was a drawer
that keeps all gems
being motionless
makes my role complete
he will shoot
a sweet little voice through the floor
to recognize his treasures
are in good hands
I nod
determined not to show
an amusement
his face a seed, someone
to grow with and around
skin moist as the day he was born
turns cheeks a shade of pink
I’ve only seen in carnations
haribo bears in his breath
allow to swim in a candied state all day
not yet a mother
of a lolly kid crowding
the checkout line
before plunging for a purse
already a parent
scrapping charcoal toast
to be dipped in a runny egg
always in hurry
trivial things coat my mind
sort of breadcrumbs in fajitas crispy chicken
– tightly
they turned up on my doorstep one day
with borders opening
as my baby boy fall into arms
jumped off
tumbled into obstacles valley (27th January 2017)
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