Expecting
three houses down,
the neighbor boy’s soft
spot has fused together
too soon. now his brain has no
room to grow.
I cannot allow my mind to dwell
the daughter of a guy I work with
has Down syndrome,
an immortal
toddler. her nose runs; she watches
cartoons. they have a special
guard
on the front doorknob.
I cannot allow my mind to dwell
my half-brother’s adopted daughter
was born
with spina bifida. she wears special
braces on her ankles
to help her walk. she suffers
operation after
operation, but
the doctors are certain: one day the cord
will simply
stretch
too
taut.
I cannot allow my mind
our first was born
perfect
except
for the second and third
toes
on his left foot. they are
joined to the first knuckle.
I cannot allow
my wife is 36. they stuck a special
red dot
on her chart. we consulted with a genetic
counselor
as our boy orchestrated mock battles
with a pair of wind-up Star Wars
toys, gifts
from McDonald’s.
she told us that the ultrasound looked
good and that the risk of the amniocentesis
outweighed the risk of not
knowing. she spoke like a stockbroker.
perfect babies are born
each second. there is little
in this world
less miraculous.
three months to go. I spend
the time.
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Comments
The I cannot repetition... was good... but I think it needs another at the end... that's my only suggestion... honestly I wouldn't change a thing myself. Unless I felt it right.
This is done (handled, I guess) well.
I can say I know personally of this... I think you touched on something that is universal in our society, to have had contact with someone who has or to actually be one of the affected.
My daughter has no specific medical conditions... though nearly died a few years back from something that baffled physicians. I had the same odd near death when I was a child. The stockbroker bit, basically hit on the "WTF?" nature of medical science... as the body is nearly incomprehensibly interconnected and complex. Doctors really cannot possibly know, with certainty, anything.
--
Guph, go feed the lizard.
-----------------------------------------
state-of-the-art bionic-cyberechidna
The Tao is like a glob pattern:
used but never used up.
It is like the extern void:
filled with infinite possibilities.
My mom was 42 when she got pregnant with my little brother and they told her, from the amniocentesis that there was a 90% chance he would be down syndrome.
She had him. He is 7 years old now and totally normal.
Baffling, the way science is. I work in a medical library, and am sometimes saddened about how much...unknowingness...there really is.
So is your poem true to life? Just curiosity. I think we can all relate.
*ponders*
--
I hear
your voice
down the hall, through the window, above
all those trees, a light
it seems
& you are singing. What song
is that The words
are beautiful.
-LeRoi Jones
Yes, this is another newer poem and as true to life as they come. (I don’t write much fictional poetry. The only one I have posted is my nigh-infamous S&M Sonnet - [link]) My wife, also named Heather, will undergo a Cesarean near the beginning of December: our second boy and our second (and last) child.
~M
--
[link]
I think four repititions may already be pushing it, but I did think of adding another. My hope is that the refrain continues to echo on through the last few stanzas without actually being written. Besides, I like how the last one stands with "I cannot allow/.../my wife..."
~M
--
[link]
But yeah. I see what you mean.
--
Guph, go feed the lizard.
-----------------------------------------
state-of-the-art bionic-cyberechidna
The Tao is like a glob pattern:
used but never used up.
It is like the extern void:
filled with infinite possibilities.
~M
--
[link]
--
Guph, go feed the lizard.
-----------------------------------------
state-of-the-art bionic-cyberechidna
The Tao is like a glob pattern:
used but never used up.
It is like the extern void:
filled with infinite possibilities.
I especially like the repetition of the "I cannot allow..." and the shortening of it. I was expecting the poem to end with a variation of it, or a twist with "I cannot" denying the penultimate line. I'm not sure if I prefer this way or not.
Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed this. Congratulations on the DD, too.
--
I'm not a writer, I just play one on deviantArt.
Before I was born, the doctors said I would be brain-dead and advised my mother to abort me, for they said she wouldn't have the means to give me proper care; it would be pointless. She got several opinions, all saying I had no neural activity. A bit of time passed, and one night she felt me kick. The doctors didn't really understand what changed things.
And do you know what? I never understand the miracle of all that until I read this poem. I knew, but I didn't understand.
Anyway, back to the poem itself.
I spend
the time.
I really like how you didn't say how you spent the time, just that you spent it.
--
-Katia
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