they will always blame the mother
point finger, encourage the devil
truth so heavy it coats a tongue with blisters
as you kiss her like i never lived there,
beneath your shoulder blade.
my place in bed between your arms
you laid with me counting stars
chose the name of our children as they
slept in heaven
fallen angel, you called me.
before the pregnancy test. and the dream
became too expensive for your fairytale life - i
know. this is how it always happens before
shit gets complicated and you whimper
several states away blaming my womb for
a manhood that never existed.
find me a river to drown our chance. i
rather keep my eye on this kin of circumstance,
with your name, your eyes and your smile.
and when they are old enough to carry your shame,
with the same blistered apprehension of your tongue
i will hug them daily -- so they never
forget, God don't make mistakes.