Beholden

 

Beholden

 

All days he’s had a yogurt-propelling snotty nose

and scrambled egg squelched between tiny sweaty toes.

All of the screeches and screams

tacky teething gels and nappy rash creams

with all the go-to-fucking-sleep nights

the fatigued and frazzled baby-Father fights

and the live long days of exhaustion

your long lost independent lives

tantrums, and he-won’t-eat-his-bastard-food slights

and you never wanted children anyway.

But then there’s a moment

isolated, suspended in your slack off Sunday

where you see:

with just one goofy, gapped grin

the reflection in your next of kin

it’s what you were both foraging for

all the thirty plus years before

and the cut-throat love throttles you

like gobbling down a podgy gold watch

and you see:

for the first time this week

his chimp-like rump

his bitty belly portly and plump

his full force, warm and fed

seeking his soft, safe, mummy-made bed

the prosperity you’ve both had

plummets through the navy nursery floor

and you swear

you won’t take parenthood for granted anymore.

 

Our love

our life

My Boy,

you were seen tonight.

 

Commended in the 2014 Mother’s Milk Books Writing Prize