Can a man have a baby?
The stopwatch on my life ticks ...
In the momentary silences that hide between the ticks,
a feeling for the shape of a value-laden thought
will sometimes wriggle, unannounced, into my mind.
Its ardent quest: to fertilize image with intent.
If I put on a social condom that
prevents conception, and fill my time
with all the beneficial shoulds of daily life
talk to my wife when I've nothing to say
play with my kids when it's their time to play
visit my dad when it's out of the way
I am the model husband-father-son
a family man, they say
responsible, respectable, predictable;
but I half-live when every now mechanically becomes
with nothing new begun.
But if I let the image and idea meet and merge
and nurture this new life toward its birth
escaping time as seen for time as flow
forgetting where I am and what I know
slipping off the leashing status quo
I am a poet for a timeless, I-less while.
My mind becomes a rich placental bed
that feeds my verse the words it needs to grow:
I feel it kick, and then it's born,
and that's as close as I,
can come to giving birth.