For brushing teeth, potty, two books,
a prayer where syllables wedged between
baby teeth and and sticky tongue
was making its way heavenward
in perfect innocence,
I'd prepared myself.
For a sleep with blinking baby monitors
emitting scratchy static and night
lights creating a youthful pathway to
mommy and daddy's bedroom,
I'd prepared myself.
The college days of all-nighters
in cramped offices with Chinese
scents and building coolers that hummed
senseless lullabies,
My ironman with swim caps, fast-beated
ipod songs, throwing up, and crossing
the finish line eight hours later,
Waiting to commit until a flawless
conscience and threshold dreams
met him upon an altar and wedding ring,
I'd prepared myself.
But, Ah! For her child-passing in the
depth of a merciful night, while pacing
sterilized gray-checked hospital floors
and shedding tearless sobs from
a heaving and collapsing breast,
I'd not prepared myself.
I found, instead, that her face, bordered
in a Cinderella crown, her laugh at
scurrying ants, her "please" look
emerging at discovered chocolate,
prepared me, prepared me
to continue.
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